


Turtle-Duck Rituals

by BrusselsSprout



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 30 days of Zutara, Angst, Developing Relationship, Drabbles, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Ficlets, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Pre-Katara/Zuko (Avatar), Romance, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zutara Month 2018, Zutara Week 2019, shifting relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2019-09-18 17:50:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 28,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16999746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrusselsSprout/pseuds/BrusselsSprout
Summary: A collection of Zutara one-shots.





	1. Turtle-Duck Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who doesn't like turtle ducks? Written for Zutara Month 2018 - Day 15: Courting

 

She finds him at the turtle duck pond - because really where else would a sulking Fire Lord be sitting after losing his temper so badly at his ministers that the torches in the conference room all flared up at once?

It’s not that he didn’t have a point - the former colonies need better schools to provide education to children of Fire Nation heritage so they remain connected to their roots. And most importantly, they need decent firebending teachers. The ministers as usual were reluctant to finance the plan - they saw healthcare, education and culture as useless extravagances the Fire Nation could not afford in the difficult post-war economy. But Zuko is convinced - and Katara agrees -  that it is the best investment for the future. Better than the new battleships the ministers want to develop.

She watches him for a while as he sits at the edge of the water only in a silk tunic, which is definitely not sufficient clothing for this time of the year. Winters in the Fire Nation are warmer than summer in the South Pole, but it’s still a cold season. Zuko is surrounded by turtleducks, some boldly pecking at his palm, which always has breadcrumbs for them.

Katara smiles. Zuko’s turtleduck obsession has earned him quite a bit of mocking, especially from Sokka and Toph, but Katara knows the truth. He told her that it used to be his mother’s favourite place. Katara knows the need all too well. When life becomes overwhelming, she touches her necklace, he feeds the ducks. Remembering that they are loved, connecting them back to that positive energy that still radiates in the universe.

“We started to make progress after you left in a huff,” she says playfully, as she moves to sit next to him. The ground feels cold under her even though she’s wearing a fur coat.

“I don’t huff.” huffs Zuko.

“Right. You are the picture of serenity.” He is not quite the angry jerk he used to be, but his outbursts, while less frequent in number are no less scary in intensity.

“At least I know when to step away before I drench people in icy cold water.” Zuko retorts, reminding Katara when she lost her temper at a slimy diplomat who dared to suggest that the Southern Water Tribe opens their water for whale hunts.

“If you refer to the incident with the Earth Kingdom envoy, he really deserved it,” she says smugly.

“No argument there,” shrugs Zuko, and turns his gaze back at the pond.

Katara wonders if he sees more than just birds randomly swimming around. “Are the turtleducks particularly fascinating today? Enough to freeze your butt off for?”

“I’m a firebender, I don’t get cold,” he says indignantly.

“Oh, that’s not what you said at your last visit when Sokka took you sled-racing.” Katara smiles at the memory. Zuko was tripping over himself trying to please everyone, probably to erase the memory of his first foray into the South Pole. Sokka made it his mission to give full cultural immersion to his friend, throwing everything at him from pickled sharkballs to ice dipping, topping it off with arctic spirits every night.

“Getting your butt frozen to a piece of wood as you go around in an icestorm for hours with a pounding headache is really a whole different level,” grins Zuko, then he motions at the pond. “It’s courtship season. The turtleducks are choosing their mates. You see - Ping there is trying to chase Lin -”

Katara snorts in disbelief. “Did you give names to the turtleducks?”

“Of course…” Zuko looks at her as one would at a really unreasonable person.

“Well, Lin doesn’t seem to like Ping very much… she bites him.” Katara notes dryly.

Zuko’s lips curl into a lopsided smile as he explains quietly, “These are more love bites - you can see that they are gentle - she’s shaking her tail-feathers…just teasing him really.”

The drake swims away and puffs out his colourful feathers a bit, bobbing his head rhythmically. “He’s trying to appeal to the female,” explains Zuko as he pulls the flame-shaped headpiece out of his hair, letting the silky strands fall lose on his face. He’s uncomfortable wearing the Fire Lord regalia when he’s with his friends or family - as if he abhorred the distance it creates. Katara watches him from the corner of her eye. She is fascinated with his shiny, slippery hair, so different from her own thick brown waves. She feels an overwhelming need to touch something, so she starts playing with her own hair, curling it around her fingers. Zuko brushes the black locks out of his eyes, his gaze drawn to her neckline.

“Does she like him?” Katara bites her lips as she watches the animals circle each other. She suddenly feels very invested in Lin and Ping - she wants them to have a happy ending.

“It’s hard to tell yet.” The drake cries out loudly. “That’s his song - all he can do is put it out there. But the choice is hers to make.” Zuko’s raspy voice sounds lower than usual, vibrating in her core. Lin stops and turns back to the drake calling out with a matching tone.

“I think she’s responding to him.” Katara says breathlessly, now completely engrossed in the turtleduck romance. The birds swim towards each other, their heads nodding to the rhythm of a song only they can hear.

“You’re shivering,” Zuko notes and Katara realizes that her hands feel icy cold. He pulls her off from the ground and steps behind her, engulfing her in glorious firebender warmth and just a general Zukoness that she’s suddenly intensely aware of. It feels both like safety and danger and it makes her want to give in and run. It doesn’t make any sense, except it does.  “Is this better?” His breath tickles her earlobe in a way that makes her tingle down to her toes; her heart is beating in step with his.

“Much better,” murmurs Katara. Zuko rests his chin lightly on Katara’s head as they watch the ducks rubbing their heads together, forming a heart shape with their necks. They fit together perfectly. The turtleducks seem to revel in the moment, soaking up the last rays of the feeble winter sun as they float effortlessly together on the smooth surface of the pond. Katara feels suspended in the moment, wishing to stay here forever on the ledge between the comfortable and the unknown, but there is also an almost irresistible urge to take the next step.

The drake finally makes his move. He circles around his mate, then climbs atop her shell.

“What is he doing now?” she wonders out loud. Suddenly, the cozy warmth around her turns into intense heat hovering on the line between pleasant and overwhelming. Zuko takes an abrupt step back.

“Aah… that’s… the you know…” he stammers and his face turns the colour of his tunic. Katara  is about to make fun of him, but she feels her own face burning as the meaning of his words sink in. Oh.

He turns away embarrassed and fishes his headpiece out of his belt, tying his hair back into a topknot. He clears his throat. “Better go back and see if the good ministers have changed their minds.” He sighs and he’s all firelordy business again. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Katara watches him go. She feels relieved about the distance, yet mourns the loss of his closeness. The past weeks they spent working together have stirred up something inside her. It feels like something has changed, and she wonders how long the dance of the lingering looks, hesitant touches can go on. She looks back at the ducks, still lost in their moment of ecstasy and she realizes, all he can do is sing his song; the choice is hers to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meshed together the courtship rituals of ducks and turtles obviously to invent turtle duck mating rituals.


	2. Dragons are creatures of storm and lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragons are creatures of storm and lightning. This is a Druk origin story and a post-series AU.
> 
> Written for Zutara Month 2018 Prompts: Day 19: Dragons / Day 1: Vigilantes / Day 3: Storm

“I hate you,” the little princess yelled at his brother and ran towards the house with tears running down her face.

“What’s going on, Ziyi?” Both children stopped at the voice of their grandfather who was watching them from the doorstep. The girl stepped closer and he crouched down to the level of the children, drying her tears.

“Iroh is telling me that only firebenders can be dragons,” the little princess cried.

“Is that true?” Zuko turned to his grandson with a stern gaze.

“Well, dragons are the original firebenders. That’s just how it is,” shrugged the boy.

“It’s true that dragons are firebenders, but they are so much more than that,” the former fire lord explained, “They are creatures of storm and lightning.”

“What do you mean?” the boy frowned.

“Have I ever told you the story of Druk’s birth?” Zuko asked his grandchildren.

A pair of golden and a pair of blue eyes looked at him curiously. “No, grandpa, you never told us.”

“Well, it started with the pirates,” he smiled as they sat on the steps of the small courtyard of the Ember Island summer house.

“You are telling it all wrong. It started before that…”  Katara interrupted with a tray of cool watermelon juice.

“Who’s telling this story?” Zuko frowned.

“You are obviously not telling it right, Zuko,” grinned Katara.

“I’m telling it just fine,” he grumbled. “So there I was on the pirate ship, trying to find the stolen treasure, then suddenly I was surrounded by at least ten pirates.”

“What did you do?” asked Iroh, eyes wide with excitement.

“I pulled out my swords,” Zuko sprang to his feet, demonstrating the stance waving his imaginary dao blades.

“And then I saved you,” interrupted Katara.

“I was doing just fine,” he glared back at her.

-0-

_Dragontail Bay, 35 years ago_

_Zuko crept along the ship, silently like a spirit. Well, he was the Blue Spirit again, even if for just one night. The voice of the pirates, drinking and singing echoed over the water. He crawled to the level below the deck, and sure enough, he found the treasures stolen from the sun warriors in the little storage room next to the kitchen. He pulled out his sack and packed the precious stones inside it. He used his sword to take the golden egg-shaped stone, remembering the glue-flood from the previous time he touched it._

_He tied up the sack, and inched back up to the deck, trying to climb down to the small boat that he paddled out to the pirate ship. As he was about to lower himself with the rope, he found himself eye to eye with the ugly green lizard-parrot. The hideous creature screeched. Suddenly Zuko was surrounded by pirates. He dropped the sack on the floorboard and pulled out his dao swords, ready for action._

_Before he could attack, a figure covered in black jumped in front of him, seemingly out of nowhere._

_“I’ll save you from the pirates,” her voice was gently mocking, as a pair of big blue eyes shined at him through the slit of her mask. She raised her hands and two giant waves crashed over the pirate ship, sending the pirates into the water._

_“I was handling them…” Zuko grumbled. “How did you know I was here?”_

_“I have my ways,” she grinned. “Suki told me.”_

_“I’ll fire her,” muttered Zuko. This was his chance to get out and do something other than tedious paperwork and endless grin-and-shake. He begrudged the women in his life treating him like some helpless damsel-in-distress._

_“I guess that’s why they call you the Fire Lord,” Katara retorted._

_Zuko rolled his eyes. “Leave the jokes to Sokka. Or you know what, you are both equally terrible…It must be that South Pole moonshine…”_

_Katara shrugged and looked around. “So what are we looking for?”_

_“I already found it,” Zuko motioned to the bag. “The stolen sun warrior treasure. Can you bend the ship northeast?”_

_“You see, you do need me,” she smiled, visibly pleased with herself as she started to steer the ship in the direction Zuko pointed at.  “So what are these treasures?”_

_Zuko opened the bag. “I’m not really sure. But the sun-warrior chief was pretty worried. When I last touched one of them, I spent the night glued to a window with a very grumpy Avatar.”_

_“I’m sure that was an enlightening chat,” Katara laughed._

_“Well, Aang complained that he had to pee the whole time.”_

_Katara made a face. “Eew, thanks for oversharing. I really didn’t need to know that.”_

_Zuko grimaced at the reprimand and pulled out the golden egg-shaped gem. “I think it was this one. It felt alive.”_

_Katara touched her hands to the stone, then her expression became puzzled. “Because it is alive, Zuko. I can feel a heartbeat inside.”_

-0-

“So you returned the treasures, then what?” asked Ziyi.

“Then came the interesting part. Because as it turns out the treasure with the beating heart inside it was the first viable dragon egg in many many years.”

“But since your grandfather was the first…” Katara interrupted again.

“You are telling it wrong.” Zuko looked at her with a frown and turned back to the children. “Since I was the first one to touch it, I was the only one who could hatch it.”

-0-

_Sun Warrior Island, 35 years ago_

_Zuko honestly expected a bit more fanfare as he returned to the sunwarrior island with the sack full of treasure. Ham Gao unceremoniously snatched the sack out of his hand, and peeked inside. He took out the egg-shaped gem with a frown on his face and handed it over to the Chief._

_The Chief held it in his hand for a long moment muttering to himself and looking rather worried. Then he turned to Zuko. “You have to hatch it, otherwise it will die.”_

_“What do you mean hatch it? Like a turtleduck? Sitting on the nest?” he squeeked._

  
-0-

Katara imitated Zuko’s grimace and the children giggled.

“I did not say that,” Zuko protested.

“Oh, yes you did.”

“I thought, I’m telling the story,” he grumbled.

“Just continue, please!” exclaimed Iroh.

-0-

_The sun warrior chief looked at Zuko like he was suggesting to dress the dragons in pink kimonos._

_“No.” He said on his booming voice. “Dragons are born in storm and lighting.”_

_Zuko looked at the bright blue sky. “But it’s a clear day,” he said matter-of-factly._

_Katara interrupted. “I can try to bend the clouds for you.” Zuko sighed. Of course, she could._

_The sun-warriors for the first time seemed to notice her presence. Zuko muttered a belated introduction. “This is Katara from the Southern Water Tribe. She’s a friend.”_

_Ham Gao looked at them with a knowing grin. “If you say so.”_

_“There is just one problem,” Zuko stared at his feet, as if the black boots could reveal a solution to his dilemma._

_“What?” He squirmed uncomfortably under the gaze of the Chief._

_“I don’t know how to make lightning…” he admitted quietly, feeling horribly inadequate and cursing all the spirits that Katara was a witness to his humiliating defeat._

_“Well, that’s just great,” Ham Gao sneered._

_“Let me talk to him,” Katara told the sun warriors and pulled Zuko aside. “What do you mean you don’t know? Everyone in your family knows,” she whispered._

_“Well, I don’t - OK?” yelled Zuko and all the sun-warriors stared at them. The Chief shook his head. “Actually, I know in theory, I could just never do it,” Zuko added on a lower voice._

_“Have you tried?” Katara put her hand gently on his shoulder, her blue eyes looking at him with concern as if she was trying to calm down a toddler throwing a tantrum_

_“Of course I tried,” exclaimed Zuko again._

_“Fine, just asking, don’t bite me. What does your uncle say?” she asked._

_“He said that I had to get rid of the turmoil inside me. Which is ridiculous, because I don’t have any turmoil,” Zuko continued with agitation. “I mean, we ended the war, things are getting better, everything should be fine now. I should be able to do lightning, and still….” his voice trailed off._

_Katara listened to his tirade then grabbed his hand. “I think I can try to help you with that.”_

_“How?” Zuko sighed._

_“Do you trust me?” she asked and he nodded silently. “Then let’s go.”_

_They climbed the stairs all the way to the top of the bridge that connected the dragon lairs and laid down the egg in the middle._

_Katara waved her hands around rhythmically, until dark clouds gathered over their heads. Zuko watched with amazement the dancing girl and the gathering clouds. She made it look so effortless and he couldn’t even make a tiny miserable lightning. Struggling made him stronger, but he wished lately that he didn’t have to struggle quite so much with everything._

_“Ready?” Her voice interrupted his internal monologue._

_“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he grimaced._

_She stepped closer to him and whispered, “Close your eyes.” Zuko obeyed. A moment later, he felt her lips brushing his softly, almost chastely. Zuko leaned into the kiss. It was sweet like mango and salty like sea prunes. It felt like home with warm fires and cool water, everyone eating dinner together and nobody challenging each other to agni kais. It felt like being complete._

_“Do you feel calmer?” her voice filled him with confidence._

_“I do,” he rasped, resting his forehead against hers._

_“I believe that you can do this Zuko,” she whispered and squeezed his hands._

_Zuko reluctantly broke the contact. He stepped back, took a deep breath and concentrated on her kiss, that suspended moment of complete calm, like the sea before the storm. Like the blue of her eyes._

_“Bend the clouds,” he told her._

_The moment he felt the raindrops falling on his face, he circled his hand and surrendered to the energy coursing through his veins. This was it -  the collision of water and fire. The messy soup of creation. He watched himself almost from the outside, as a bright blue electric spark zigzagged from his fingertips, straight to the egg._

_The eggshell broke, and moments later a little red scaly face peeked out from the golden fragments, blinking curiously with golden eyes._

_Zuko smiled as he kneeled next to the baby dragon. “Hi, little one.” He softly caressed the scaly head with his fingertips. The dragonskin felt warm and dry, just like the rubbery surface of his own scar. Zuko felt exhilaration; if dragons could be brought back from the edge of extinction, maybe there was hope to undo the rest of his family’s dark legacy._

_“He’s adorable,” giggled Katara. “Congratulations, you got yourself a baby.”_

_“You mean, we got ourselves a baby,” Zuko corrected her. It was both a question and a plea._

_“I guess.” Katara conceded. “What shall we call him?”_

_“Druk. Thunder dragon”_

_“I like that,” she linked her fingers into his._

-0-

“So you see? That’s why dragons are children of both lightning and storm. Waterbenders have as much claim to them as firebenders.” Zuko finished the story.

“Especially when it comes to midnight feedings,” Katara injected.

“And since Ziyi is waterbender, just like your grandmother,” Zuko smiled at Katara, “she has as much right to be a dragon as you, Iroh. I don’t want any more arguments about it. You understand?”

The boy nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

Ziyi smiled proudly. “Grandpa, can we go dragon-riding tomorrow?”

“If your grandmother agrees…”

“Sounds fun…” Katara hugged her grandchildren. “More watermelon juice?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Dragon Prince convinced me that if we ever saw a S4 ATLA, Druk would have been born out of the egg seen in The Firebending Masters, in a storm, and probably it would be the first time Zuko produces lightning.


	3. In Agni's mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Zutara Month 2018 - Day 17 Moonlight / Day 11 Mythology
> 
>  
> 
> Katara, Zuko, moonlight, cross-bending. Western Air Temple era. Canon compliant.

He leans against the ancient pillars of the Western Air Temple. The night is mild and the full moon is larger than usual.  It looks foreign and mysterious just like the girl standing in the middle of the courtyard, next to the fountain. She’s wearing only her white wrappings which glow white in the moonlight. Her hair flows down to her waist like a dark waterfall. She’s moving to the rhythm of the moon. It looks like a dance; graceful and calm. But Zuko knows the power hidden in her depth and he’s attracted to it like fire-moths to the light. He watches mesmerized as she makes the water bend to her will. All motion; curves and waves. She stops suddenly, the water falling down to her feet in a loud splash. She turns around and fixes her gaze right at him. _ Stupid _ . He got caught staring like a creep, and he knows it looks bad, even if his intentions are pure.  _ Mostly  _ pure. He swallows hard and steps out from under the pillars.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb your practice,” he apologizes sincerely, not wanting to give her more reason to hate him than she already has.

“Then why are you lurking there like a creep?” she asks angrily. “Or are you here to challenge me?” Her smile is dangerous, like a predator circling his prey.  Zuko does feel very much like a helpless critter caught in a snare.

Honour normally requires to accept a challenge, but he sees the full moon and he vividly remembers the last time he fought her on such unequal ground. He has very little desire to spend the rest of his night frozen into a block of ice.

“Honestly, I know better now than to fight a waterbending master at full moon,” he replies truthfully. 

Katara is visibly taken aback by this reply and she’s lost for words for a moment. “Are you afraid?” she taunts him, but her heart is not fully in it. 

“I had a different idea actually…” he says breathlessly, hoping that he can get her on board. He steps closer to her, but when her eyebrows shoot up in confusion he backs up leaving her more space. “I thought maybe you could teach me,” he mutters.

“You want what?” she looks at him like he’s crazy, and maybe he is. But Uncle learnt new moves studying waterbenders and if he’s ever going to stand up to Azula, Zuko will need things she can’t anticipate. “You think you can waterbend now?”

“No, obviously. But I thought maybe you can show me a new way to firebend.”

“Even if that made any sense, why would I want to do that…”

Zuko sighs. “Katara, we are on the same team now. And if I have new moves, things that would even surprise my sister and my father, I can teach them to the Aang…it would benefit us all...”

She’s pondering this then shrugs. “We can try, but I still think it’s a dumb idea.” 

“Your objection is noted,” he mutters and takes off his tunic. When he sees Katara staring at him, he explains in a fluster. “I don’t want to get wet.” 

She purses her lips and looks away. “Suit yourself. So what did you want to know?” 

“My fire moves in straight lines mostly - which makes the blasts powerful, but easy to calculate. And I can make a fire whip, but it’s not so strong. I want to be able to make waves of flame, that curve, making its direction less predictable, without sacrificing impact.” He tries to explain using his hands to demonstrate the motion.

“Like this?” Katara surprises him with a powerful wave that knocks him back several feet and sends him crashing to the ground. 

“Hey, what was that for?” He’s on his butt, soaked, and has a strange feeling of deja vu.

“I thought you wanted a demonstration,” her grin is evil, obviously waiting for him to retaliate. Zuko swallows his anger - he’s getting quite good at it. Trying to get on the good side of Katara is a hard lesson in patience; one he reckons he deserves. He’s determined not to rise to the bait. 

“Yeah, thanks. But perhaps we could take it more slowly - I couldn’t see it so clearly, with the water in my eyes,” he says evenly. 

Katara laughs. It’s not a grin or a snicker - it’s a real laugh, like a clear bell and he thinks that it was worth getting drenched for it. He stands up and shakes his hair. Some of the droplets land on her chest, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they slide down towards the curve of her breast. Zuko tries not to stare, but it is a challenge. Her femininity is hard to ignore as the moon accentuates every soft curve of her body. Katara takes pity on him and bends the water out of his pants and hair. 

“Come here, and try copying what I do. Though I really doubt it will do anything.” her voice is sceptical, but the coldness is gone for now. Zuko stands across from her, trying to mirror her movements. “Your stance should be more flexible,” she explains, “you don’t resist, you just go with the flow.” She steps closer and corrects his feet and turns his knees more out. The contact startles Zuko, she hasn’t touched him since Ba Sing Se, and the feel of her skin against his makes him feel like he’s going to crumble. “Relax, you are too stiff,” she scolds him, and he lets out a deep breath.

“Now, your arms guide the element, so you’ll have to imitate the motion.” This time she turns and bends a powerful wave in the other direction. “Got it?”

Zuko nods, then tries to copy the movement. A pathetic little snake forms at his fingertips. It would be discouraging, except the flame curves in a way he’s never done before.

“Well, I guess there goes your theory.” She almost looks disappointed for all her naysaying. Obviously, he managed to spark her curiosity.

“No, it worked. Just need to figure out how to give it more juice.” He scratches his head. “How do you breathe through it?”

Katara looks perplexed. “What do you mean? Breathing has nothing to do with it.”

“Then what does?” 

Katara seems unsure, so she repeats the movement several times, trying to alter things, then finally looks up triumphantly. “It’s the legs, you shift your weight with the movement. The strength comes from the knees - look.”

Zuko tries the fluid motion and is rewarded with a thicker snake. 

“That still doesn’t look too impressive,” grimaces Katara, but Zuko feels excited; they are on the right track.

“Well, firebending has everything to do with the breath. So I bet I need to fuel it at the right moment.”

He tries to rush a breath out as he pushes his hands forward. The snake turns into a fireball and explodes. He’s pushed backwards by the unexpected blast, crashing into Katara and they both roll onto the ground. He puts out his arms against the sharp rocks of the terrace, trying to take the brunt of the fall. He’s successful and she lands on top of him, limbs entangled, her large eyes staring directly right above him. It feels like gazing into the vast expanse of a moonlit dark blue skye. Her nearness is overwhelming and he’s relieved when she gets up. 

“Sorry,” he mutters as he scrambles to his feet. It feels like his face is burning, and she’s looking a bit flushed too. 

But she gets back to the practice immediately, undeterred by the mishap. Zuko loves this stubbornness in her.

“I think you need to make the breath flow like a wave too, to avoid the explosion, something like this,” she demonstrates and her breath tickles Zuko’s face. 

“Maybe,” he concedes. He takes a few steps away from her, so as not to get her caught up in the blast, in case he mucks it up again.  

He feels like a kid under her watchful eyes. He concentrates hard, carefully assumes the stance she showed him, thrusts his arms forward just as she explained and lets out a slow, controlled breath. An orange wave forms at the movement; it’s powerful and bright and curves to the side. 

“We did it,” says Zuko triumphantly. 

“I can’t believe that worked.” Katara exclaims with a huge smile on her face, she seems so genuinely happy that Zuko feels choked with emotion. Nobody has ever been this happy for him to do something new in firebending, all his little triumphs overshadowed by his sister’s genius. 

“You are a good teacher,” he replies with a shy smile and leans against the rim of the fountain.

“How did you know it would work?” she asks as she sits next to him, feet dangling from the side.

“Well, the elements are not as separate as we think. After all, what is moonlight? It’s only sunshine reflected…” he starts.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not right.” Katara shakes her head.  

Zuko looks up at the moon, searching his memory for the words. “Legend has it that when Agni brought the eternal flame to Earth, the spirit of darkness was so frightened that she ran away. There was only light. But it turned out the world needed darkness. The crops wouldn’t grow, the animals grew restless. So some of the people went to the spirit of darkness and asked her to return. She attacked Agni in his sleep, and he lashed out a whip of fire. It melted into the skin of the spirit of darkness and they got joined together for eternity. They would roll in perpetual motion, and day and night were separated. But people were still unhappy. At night they could not see, they would get lost. The earth spirit heard their cries and asked the other spirits for help. The moon spirit was kind and brave and she went to see Agni. She tried her best to separate him from the spirit of darkness, but his whip was melted too deep inside her. There was nothing she could do. But Agni appreciated her good intentions and gave her a mirror. He told her that if she turned the mirror just the right way, she could reflect Agni’s light even at night, when the spirit of darkness rolled between him and the earth. The moon spirit brought back the mirror and when she angled it draw light from Agni, the ocean spirit saw her face for the first time. He was drawn to her beauty and that’s how the tides were created.”

“That’s quite the story,” smiles Katara warmly. “Who knew you could be such a story-teller when most days you can’t even get through a joke without stumbling?”

“This is how my mother used to tell me,” Zuko replies quietly and Katara nods serenely. She understands. She is the only person in the world who knows about the deep pain he still carries. It’s something they share. “I think it means that it’s all connected - the sun, the moon, the ocean, the earth, the tides.”  _ You and me _ , he thinks but doesn’t say it. 

They sit in silence for a while as the moonlight caresses them with soft, silver fingers. 

“Zuko,” she breaks the silence.

“Yes?”

“If sunlight and moonlight are the same, then it should work the other way too. I think you owe me a move.” 

He thinks he owes her much more, but for now it will do. “It’s only fair.” He gets up and offers his arm to pull her up too. “We’d better start then.”

She takes his hand - it’s not peace yet between them, but under the moonlight, it’s a truce.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a huge sucker for the Gaang teaching each other bending moves, so of course I had to write a cross-bending fic. It's Western Air Temple era, so there is still plenty of tension between Zuko and Katara. 
> 
> It doubles for the prompt on Day 11 - mythology.


	4. Turtle-Duck Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet takes place in an AU where things remain unchanged until the end of S2, but Zuko didn't defect until the day of the comet and Ozai has prevailed on that day, most of the world is burnt and run over by the Fire Nation, and the little pockets of resistance are the only thing to keep the hope alive.
> 
> Written for Zutara Month 2018

The lines are drawn by her on the first they he arrives - invisible, yet etched in his mind with absolute certainty. The room has two parts - his and hers and he is not allowed to cross, if he wants to avoid trouble. And for once in his life, Zuko wants to avoid trouble. It took him many false turns before he ended up with the Resistance. All he wants now is to play his part in ending the war and restoring balance to the world. And this group here is the last hope to do that - to free the Avatar, so his place is here.  And as much as the waterbender hates him - if he’s honest with himself, not without a cause - it was not his decision to bunk with her. He is trying to keep a low profile and if she wants to complain, it’s up to her, he decides as he collapses on his bedroll and turns towards the wall without a word, pretending to be asleep. He listens to her muted huffs and mutters as she fumes to herself, before falling into an uneasy slumber.

The demarcation is inconvenient as she starts crying in her sleep, calling for her father in the pitiful voice of a frightened child. Zuko wonders what she’s dreaming about, it seems that just like him, she has lived through many horrors, fuelling the darkness of her nights. He debates for a while whether to cross the line, but he doesn’t want to break their silent agreement on their first day. After some quiet reflection he opens his palm igniting a small flame. It’s bright yellow and pleasantly warm. He forms a little fireball and sends it carefully over the line towards the other corner of the room, where she sleeps curled up under thick fur blankets. The fireball floats across the room like a paper-lantern and hovers over her head. Her features are contorted by pain and fear. Zuko concentrates on the soothing warmth of the element, like his mother’s embrace or Uncle Iroh’s tea. After a few moments, the girl lets out a relieved sigh and her face relaxes. Zuko lets go of the fireball, and darkness falls on the room. He lies awake long, listening to her even breaths.

Maybe this is what peace feels like.

 

-0-

 

_Dad, come quickly. There is someone in our tent. We need to hurry, she screams as she struggles through the snow on her short legs. There is chaos, blood, screams and black snow around her, and she is more terrified than she’s ever been._

_When they get to the hut, her heart is thumping in her throat, fear is gripping her, but instead she sees her mother next to a small fire. “Katara, it was just a bad dream. Do you want me to tell you the story of the whale and the tiger shark?”_

Katara jolts awake. She knows she had a nightmare, but somehow she wakes up soothed. She looks over to the other side of the room remembering her new, unwelcome roommate. Zuko is gone though, his bed already rolled up and stacked neatly next to his small bag that contains all his worldly possessions. It’s barely dawn, but then again firebenders rise with the sun. It’s a lesson he taught her and she will never forget. After getting dressed and brushing her hair, Katara heads out for the day.

It’s almost full moon and the waterbenders train late into the night. When she gets back to the room, it’s already dark. She enters quietly, trying not to wake the firebender. He’s kicked off half his blanket, the pale skin on his thin, but muscular frame glows in the soft moonlight. The shaggy black hair covers most of his face. She stares at his hands curled into fists, wondering what demons he’s fighting even in his sleep. Whatever it is, he deserves it, she decides. After all, he chased them around the world, he betrayed them in Ba Sing Se.

Suddenly he whimpers. It’s an odd sound - not the voice of a man, but the haunting cry of a child. “Father, please…” Wherever he is, it’s a terrifying place. He thrashes and sobs, though no tears are coming.

Maybe the man deserves his demons, but no child should suffer like this. Silently uncorking her waterskin, she coats her hand in the soothing liquid. She reaches out and the water snakes over the invisible line, reaching his forehead. Even with the distance, she feels the feverish heat of his skin, and tries to cool it with her element, caressing his scar with gentle strokes.

The whimpers subside slowly as he takes a few deep breaths, shaking with uncried tears. He slightly turns his face molding himself into the touch of the cool water. A gentle, shy smile appears on his lips and Katara thinks he should do that more often. Once his breathing is even, she summons the water back into the waterskin.

Katara climbs under her furs and stares into the darkness. _The invisible line is intact,_ she tells herself, _bending across surely doesn’t count._ But when the moon peeks out from behind a cloud and shines a silver ray into their room, Katara sees with surprise that the bright line it forms is not a divide.

It is a bridge.


	5. Festival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What better way to celebrate water and fire harmony? - Iroh has a plan, Zuko is not convinced.
> 
> Written for Zutara Month 2018 - prompt: festival

“It’s not even a thing, Uncle.” Zuko chews on his lips nervously. It feels like a conspiracy; the Water Tribe delegation is coming tomorrow and time is too short to change course now. But a decision like this should not be taken lightly.

“Of course it is a thing.” Iroh smiles patiently. “Or it should be. It’s water and fire in perfect harmony. You must have sensed it before.”

Zuko frowns. He has known moments of heightened intensity, where he felt that the two elements almost became one. After all he fought both against and with Katara. He has a strong preference for the latter. But he’s fairly certain this is not what Iroh is talking about. “I’m not sure, Uncle.”

“The fusion of two opposite elements to create something more than the constituent parts, something new and sacred. It’s the perfect start of our new relations with the Water Tribe.” When Iroh gets rolling, it’s difficult to stop him.

“It’s just hot…” The young Fire Lord starts but his uncle cuts him off before he can finish his objections.

“It’s magnificent. It’s the best thing one could imagine for our nations. Poetry and elevation. Everyday miracle.” Uncle continues to wax poetic. He has always felt strongly about this.

“Still, it’s going too far.” Zuko shakes his head, but Uncle is unrelenting.

“You have to do this, Zuko. For the Fire Nation. A Fire Lord has certain responsibilities.”

“Which is why I’m hesitant. It just feels gratuitous.”

“In any case, preparations are already underway. You can’t stop it, so might as well embrace it.” Uncle grins.

“You did what?” Zuko asks horrified feeling that it’s all heading for an inevitable disaster.

“Well, you made me interim Firelord and it was my royal prerogative. What’s the point of it if you cannot even make an official tea festival?” Iroh pats his shoulder and Zuko just rolls his eyes.

 

-0-

 

It turns out, Uncle has a flair for these things. There is not only tea, but spinning teacup rides,  dancers, tea cake, even tea-flavoured ice cream. Then there are fire- and waterbending performances; one of them featuring the Fire Lord and the daughter of the Water Tribe Chief, preparing a giant cauldron of tea with harmonious bending motions to share for all.

Uncle even hired a theater troupe to enact the story how the spirits created tea. Zuko thinks that the story is most certainly an exaggeration. He’s pretty sure that tea wasn’t a special gift of the spirits, but someone accidently pouring hot water on some leaf, but he has to admit that it wouldn’t be much of a story.

 

And at the end of the day, it’s all worth it when Zuko stares into Katara’s enthusiastically sparkling blue eyes and huge smile over the brim of her tea cup. “I didn’t even know Tea Festival was a thing in the Fire Nation, Zuko. This is really great.”

Zuko has to concede the point to Uncle Iroh: even if Tea Festival hasn’t been a thing, it definitely will be in the future. After all, it’s a new era; it should have it’s own festivals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, this was a bit weird, but had to bring in Iroh and his devious plans. Obviously he ships Zutara too and wants to see them happy.


	6. Heartbeat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the day of the comet - drabble
> 
> Written for Zutara month 2018 - Day 16 - prompt: Love during War

 

 

The comet passes and his heartbeat quickens. It’s either the end or the beginning. One thing he’s certain of; he’s glad to be with her. She’s raging storm and calming stream. Strong yet gentle. Too stubborn to lose. Magnificent. Maybe one day he’ll be able to tell her all the ways she’s changed him for the better.  
  


Time constricts to a single heartbeat. Instead of words, his lips find hers for one feverish moment. That’s all they have; a lifetime of emotions condensed to burning silence. He hopes she understands. 

 

As her eyes lock with his, he knows she does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I try my hand at a proper drabble. These things are surprisingly difficult to write :)


	7. Diplomatic Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Katara fight. Aang comes up with a diplomatic solution. Western Air Temple days AU.
> 
> Written for Zutara Month 2018

“Aang” Sokka yelled. “They are doing it again.” 

“Oh, no,” the young Avatar, the world’s last hope for peace arrived racing to the terrace to find his waterbending and firebending teacher hurl ice spikes and fireballs at each other. Again. The Western Air Temple was covered in steam and all they could hear was the sizzling of the colliding elements. 

“This is fun,” grinned Toph planting her bare feet on the ground to get a good view. “We could start making bets.”

“You have to do something, Aang,” Sokka frowned. 

“But what?” Aang looked at him puzzled.

Sokka spread his arms. “I don’t know. You know once we stop the war, this will be your full time job. Keeping peace.”

Aang did not like that prospect. “Well, obviously, I’m not very good at it. They are always at each other’s throat.”

“I think this requires a diplomatic solution.” Sokka held up his finger. 

“Which is?” Aang asked, hoping that Plan Guy would have a way out of this mess.

“A fancy word for talking instead of fighting,” Toph interrupted.

“And how do I do that?”

“I don’t know, you’re the Avatar.” Well that was not really helpful. 

Aang watched the fight for a while with a frown. There used to be occasional skirmishes among the kids in the Air Temple, but this was a whole other level. Katara and Zuko were both having long water and fire whips as the extension of their arms which they waved at each other. Aang thought of an idea. He jumped in the middle of the fight and with a powerful windblast pushed them both back. Zuko and Katara looked up at him surprised. 

“Enough,” he shouted, “we can’t continue like this. You need to stop fighting and talk.”

“You got it wrong Aang, talking is what starts the fighting.” Katara scrambled to her feet glaring at both boys.

“You started it.” Zuko growled and Katara poked out her tongue at him. 

“Come with me,” Aang said firmly and led them inside the temple. Katara and Zuko followed reluctantly. “In there.” Aang pointed to a large chamber with no windows. 

“Why are we here?” Zuko stepped in side and looked around in the empty room perplexed.

“You will talk to each other and work this out. How can we restore balance to the world if we can’t even stop fighting among ourselves?” asked the monk quietly, and they both hang their heads. Good, at least they seemed ashamed. 

“I have nothing to say to him,” Katara spat defiantly. 

“Well, I’m certain you can think of something, Katara. The monks taught us that often what we see in people is just a reflection of our own emotional turmoil. If you let go of that and look deeper, that’s when you truly see the other. You’ll stay in here until you come up with five nice things you like about each other,” he added strictly. 

“What?” Katara yelped. “You can’t be serious…” Zuko’s eyes grew wide in disbelief. 

Aang ignored their protests and jumped out of the room. “And don’t bother trying to break out. These doors only open to airbending.” He span around his glider and shut the doors. “I hope this works”, he muttered to himself before heading over to the terrace to find the others.

-0- 

Darkness fell on the room when the doors closed. Katara couldn’t see anything, only hear the loud breathing of the firebender and a loud thump as he presumably kicked the door. 

“I can’t believes this…” groaned Zuko lighting a little flame on his palm. He slid to the ground and leaned against the door. “Did we just get grounded by a 12-year old kid?”

“He’s almost 13.” Katara snapped at him. Even if Aang locked them in the chamber, it was clearly Zuko’s fault that things got out of hand. There was something in the firebender that made her spin out of control.

“Why do you feel the need to that?” Zuko seemed annoyed, his lips pulled into a thin line.

“Do what?” Katara crossed her arms and towered over him.

“Contradict me all the time,” Zuko glared back.

“I don’t.” Katara said reflexively.

“You just did.”

“I didn’t…”

Zuko ran his hand through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh. “Look, we can do this all day or we can try to do the thing and get out of here.”

“I’m not doing the thing with you.” Katara turned her back on him.

“Well, I didn’t exactly sign up to be locked up…with the most stubborn creature...” yelled Zuko.

“You started it…” she exclaimed.

“You splashed me on purpose first,” he retorted angrily.

“You deserved it.” She was sure of that even if she could not remember what the firebender did in the first place to earn her ire.

Zuko sighed and shook his head. They sat in sullen silence.

“You see the good in people.” His voice was so quiet that Katara barely heard it. 

“What?” she scoffed turning around to look at him..

“It’s a thing a like about you,” said Zuko through gritted teeth, as if it was physically painful to get the words out. “You see the good in people.”

Guilt washed over her. She never exactly tried to see the good in him - maybe for brief moment in Ba Sing Se, but she had always assumed the worst of him from the moment she caught sight of his ridiculous ponytail back in the South Pole. Maybe when it came to Zuko, she didn’t try hard enough to give him a chance. Aang, Sokka, Toph all accepted him, but she could not let go of the feeling of betrayal when he turned against them. Back in Ba Sing Se. They got close, and he seemed so confused. Then it dawned on her, maybe he was really confused. Maybe he really struggled with his choice and grappled with it afterwards enough to leave behind everything and everyone to come and help them. That must have been hard and she never gave him any credit for it.

“You try to do the right thing,” she said finally but couldn’t help adding a little barb. “And often you screw up really bad, but you keep trying.”

“Not exactly a ringing endorsement”, scoffed Zuko, “but I’ll take that. And you do have a point, I made many mistakes.” he pulled his legs up and rested his chin on his knees.

“We all do,” Katara said magnanimously. Some of us more than others, she added in her head. 

“You are kind,” Zuko swallowed hard, but then continued. “When you offered to heal...my scar…” Apparently Ba Sing Se was on his mind as much as on hers. Something happened there between them, something irrevocable she couldn’t name. “...nobody ever did anything like that for me before. At least not since my mother…”

“I meant it.” Katara interrupted remembering the moment so clearly, when all she wanted was to take some of his pain away.

“I know,” he nodded, touching his scar exactly the way she had touched it then. “And I’m glad you didn’t... I mean, I’m glad you had the water to heal Aang. That was much more important.” Katara couldn’t argue with that. Still looking at the angry purple wound, she wished there was something she could do about it. Her heart felt heavy as she thought of him going through such a horrible injury without healing. She had no spirit water left, but maybe words also had the power to heal some wounds. It was her turn to say something, and to her surprise it didn’t seem so difficult now to think of things she liked about him.

“You help,” her voice was warmer. She had always thought of him as a spoiled prince, but he volunteered to do chores, which was more than the others ever did. He made fire, chopped vegetables, made tea, washed dishes - he always pitched in whatever way he could, without her having to ask. 

“I try,” he looked at his hand. “You know, growing up, I never had to do these things, and after that, my uncle usually took care of everything. And I never thanked him for any of it,” he added quietly, his voice full of remorse. He was clearly struggling with a lot of things about his uncle, and Katara was touched by how very deeply Zuko cared about him.

Katara reached out and put her hand lightly on his. “But now you are trying to fix that,” she said encouragingly. 

Zuko nodded then looked up, the flame lighting up his eyes. “You are an amazing fighter,” he smiled at her. “Fierce, smart and fearless - you have come such a long way. If I’d have to pick someone to watch my back, I’d pick you. On any day.” 

His words struck a cord inside her. People usually liked that she was kind and caring, but she hardly ever got appreciated for her fighting. In a group that included the Avatar and the greatest earthbender ever, she got often overshadowed. Zuko seemed not only acknowledge, but appreciate that fierceness in her, even if often he was on the receiving end of it. Not only did he not begrudge it, he actually liked that about her.

“You’d really pick me over Aang or Toph?” she asked on a small voice.

“On any day,” Zuko nodded earnestly. 

Katara smiled, it was her turn. “You never give up. Even when you took Aang in the snowstorm, we knew that he’d survive. That you never give up no matter what. And it was annoying when you were chasing us around, but you know, I’m glad you never gave up when we sent you away that time. It’s good that you are here now.” 

“You really feel that way?” he asked, his voice shaking with insecurity and hope.

“Of course. You complete us…” Katara exclaimed and felt her cheeks getting warm. “I mean our group. Four elements…balance… you know...” she rambled.

Zuko gave her an amused look. “I got that.” he muttered then continued in a clearer voice, “You challenge me. I mean not just in a fight, definitely there... But also generally, things I thought to be true. I’m better because of you.” 

Katara thought about that. They really turned each other’s life upside down. As painful and frightening as it was, without Zuko, she would have still been sitting in the South Pole in a hut, with pitiful self-taught waterbending and would have never known how big the world was. Indeed such a long way. “Same here,” she nodded.

“Wait, you can’t just say the same thing. That’s like cheating,” Zuko protested.

“Fine. I like that you are awkward then,” she shrugged. And she did. Before she had thought of him as a grim, heartless fighting-machine, but living with him actually showed that he was mostly harmless, and was tripping over himself trying to fit in, like a polar dog puppy in a china store.

“How is that a good thing,” Zuko’s one good eyebrow disappeared in his hairline. 

“You make me laugh,” giggled Katara.

Zuko didn’t look too impressed with that one, knowing that the joke was at his expense. But he strove forward determined. “You care about everyone, Katara. You’ve done a great job holding this group together. You always find the words they need to hear, you make sure they eat, and you fix their clothes.”

“And you never take that for granted,” smiled Katara. Zuko was incredibly grateful for the smallest things. 

“I learnt the hard way, when you pestered me for an hour to eat all of my dinner, including the sea prunes,” he grumbled.

“Balanced meals are important,” she explained “and sea prunes are really good for you.” 

“You are so stubborn,” sighed Zuko but then added with a grin “but in a wonderful way.”

“I like that about you too,” laughed Katara, and as their sparkling eyes met, the tension was gone.

Zuko looked away first. “That was 6,” he noted quietly.

At first Katara didn’t catch his meaning, but then remembered; they were supposed to say five nice things about each other. She stood up. “That should be enough to get us out of here.” They both started banging on the door. 

“Oh, thanks spirits you are done.” A visibly relieved Aang opened the door. “Sokka burnt the rice, they got into a fight with Toph and her clothes got torn and nobody knows where the needles are. Oh, and I cut my finger when trying to slice up the vegetables…” he held up a bleeding thumb. 

Katara and Zuko shared a knowing smile and headed to the terrace side by side to fend off the brewing disaster.


	8. Meeting the Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 20: Meeting the Family - Written for Zutara Month 2018
> 
> Firelord/Firelady AU - Katara and Zuko both meet someone.
> 
> OK, this one is not fluffy. It's mostly very dark. You've been warned.

Her steps echo against the walls of the Dragonbone catacombs. She reaches a thick metal door guarded by a young fire sage acolyte. “Is he in there?” she asks.

The young man inclines his head. “Yes, my lady. Do you want me to go in with you?”

“No, I will be fine,” she says firmly, ignoring the icy storm brewing inside her veins. 

She takes a deep breath before opening the door... The man lying on the bed moans; there are horrible burn wounds on his neck and chest. But it’s not the injury that makes her gasp; Katara is struck by how much he looks like Zuko; the same sharp handsome lines, the same sea raven black hair, the same pale golden eyes. Except where Zuko’s irises burn with passion, this man’s burn with hatred. 

“Who are you?” Ozai asks and even his voice sounds like Zuko’s, except colder.

Katara ignores his question. “I’m here to heal you,” she says evenly moving closer to the bed, uncorking her waterskin.

Ozai looks at her horrified. “I don’t want sea witch magic,” he growls, eyes narrowing.

“Well, what you want doesn’t matter,” Katara retorts sharply. “The Fire Lord ordered that you should be healed, so you will be.” She encases her hands in water, touching them to the raw, bright red flesh oozing with yellow puss. Ozai hisses at the contact, trying to jerk away, but he is tied to the bed and in too much pain to move anyway. Katara feels nauseous from the connection; his chi feels like soot, ash and rot.

“He’s no Fire Lord, just the Avatar’s puppet,” he sneers.

“No, he is not. Zuko makes his own decision, and he agonizes over every single one of them. But his reign will be remembered as an age of peace and prosperity, while yours will be just a black page in the history books.” Katara tries to keep her temper in check and concentrates on the healing.

“He's weak. He is a failure and always will be.” Ozai says through gritted teeth.

Katara scoffs. “What does that make you? You tried to break a 13-year old boy and he became stronger than you’ll ever know. You duelled a 12-year old kid and lost. Waging war against children - do you think that’s strength?”

“I was trying to teach him a lesson to become better, and it almost worked.” Ozai exclaims, and the sad thing is that Katara knows that he believes in his own narrative.

“No, you tried to destroy the person who loved you more than anyone ever loved you in this world. That pain you felt just now? How could you let your child go through that all alone?” The irony doesn’t escape her; while Zuko had to suffer the pain without healing, the perpetrator gets patched up, even if his wounds are his own making. He got them in a breakout attempt. But maybe that’s the difference. Zuko doesn’t wish this on his worst enemy, not even the man who made him suffer.

“Love is a weakness a Fire Lord cannot afford. Not like a simple peasant like yourself would know...” he hisses and his lips are distorted into a cruel line.

“Love is strength, and Zuko is strong because he loves and he is loved. But you are left with nothing.” 

“I have Azula, she’ll find a way…” Ozai stares into the distance.

Katara laughs mirthlessly. “Why would she? You treated her like a tool that you could just throw away when no longer needed… She’s getting better thanks to all the care that her brother organized for her. Azula and Zuko are working hard to patch things up between them, to remove the poison that you were in their lives.”

“So if I’m such a poison, why don’t you just let me die?” he challenges her, and now she understands his game. 

She will not rise to the taunts. “Because the Avatar had mercy on you and Zuko will respect that. Because you deserve to be forgotten alive while he becomes a legend.”

Ozai turns his head away. “You call this mercy? Living my life without bending? I feel hollow…” he says bitterly.

“I know plenty of people who live their life without bending and they are heroes, like my brother or my father. That is not what your problem is.” Katara states simply. 

“What is?” Ozai asks, his voice is flat.

Katara leans closer, glaring at him. “That hollowness you feel? That’s the dark, black hole where your heart should be.” Her voice starts like an angry whisper, but finishes in crescendo. She stands up and bends the water back into her pouch. “It’s done,” she calls out to the guards.

“Lady Katara?” the fire sage acolyte steps into the room, accompanied by two guards.

“Take him back to his cell, where he belongs.” Katara orders them on a clear voice. The guards bow to her and flank Ozai. Katara turns back to face him one last time. “Good-bye, father-in-law. I don’t suppose we shall see each other again.”

“What?” His eyes fill with impotent rage. “That idiot married a water-peasant?”

Katara grins. “That’s right, you didn’t get an invitation. Don’t worry, Iroh officiated the ceremony. It was lovely.”

She turns around and walks down the dark corridor without looking back. When she gets back to the surface, she takes a deep breath and realizes that her hands are shaking. She reminds herself that he can’t hurt them anymore and hurries back to the palace. 

She finds Zuko in the practice court yard, bending furiously, his upper body glistening with sweat, his face taut with grim determination. Katara ducks a wayward fireball and steps closer. His eyes soften as he notices her and runs a towel over his face and hair.

“Is it done?” he asks quietly sitting on the steps.

“Yes.” Katara smiles and puts one hand on his cheek, caressing the edge of his scar with her thumb. It’s warm, dry and rubbery, like scales. She puts her other hand on the star-shaped mark on his chest. For the first time she truly understands why he refused to get them healed. His scars are badges of his honour, setting him apart from his father, as someone capable of love and sacrifice. 

Even after all these years, Zuko worries every day that he would become like him. Katara knows that it’s a preposterous notion. 

He closes his eyes. “Thank you. I’m sorry you had to meet him.”

“I’m glad I did. I always imagined a larger-than-life monster, but he’s just a sad, bitter little man who did those awful things because they made him feel big.” Katara smiles. “Stop worrying, you are nothing like him, Zuko. This little one will have a father who will love and protect her no matter what. Because that’s who you are.” Zuko looks at her with tears in his eyes, like he can’t believe she exists. She puts his hand over her belly.

“Her?” his voice is raw with emotion and his good eyebrow shoots up to his hairline.

“Waterbender intuition,” shrugs Katara.

“I love you, baby girl,” Zuko whispers before he leans over to kiss the barely visible bump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the Zuko meets Hakoda fluffy awkwardness has been done to death, I figured I'd give a dark twist to this story.


	9. Costume Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 30 Days of Zutara - Zutara Month 2018 - Day 21: Costume Party
> 
> ATLA and LoK canon-compliant.

_She helps him slide on the red tunic, the silk is cool and smooth to the touch._

Her fingers brush over lightly the star-shaped wound, still so fresh and he winces from the pain. “Thank you, Katara,” he smiles gratefully. “I still feel like an invalid, I can’t even dress myself.”

“You should be in bed, you almost died.” Katara looks at him sternly.

Zuko ignores the comment about dying, and simply shrugs, “You know I’d rather be lounging around, but it’s important that I show up to my first meeting as Fire Lord with the military commanders. I have to demonstrate that I’m in control, it’s a delicate time.”  The complexity of the political situation doesn’t escape Katara, but it’s surreal that the awkward dork who was washing dishes with her a few days ago now suddenly has an entire country to run.

_The burgundy west with the golden hem comes next._

He continues. “If they think I’m weak, they’ll pounce like puma-hyenas, to tear the whole thing apart. We’ll end up with warlords sitting on their islands again.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Katara thinks that the empire needs to end, and learning to be small again may not be the worst thing for the Fire Nation.

“I understand how you feel about the empire, Katara, believe me, I do. But that doesn’t mean we should go back to the days of the tribal wars and bloodshed.”

_He raises his arms and she twists the golden belt around his waist._

“I didn’t mean that.” She doesn’t wish war on anyone, there has been enough lives lost.

Zuko sighs. “I know you didn’t. I’m just nervous.” He bites his lips.

Katara ties the intricate knot, taking care that the lines are perfect. “You’ll be fine, Zuko. You prepared for this your entire life. It’s your destiny.”

“Well, not for the three years I was banished,” he sighs.

“Especially those three years,” she says firmly. “Think about it, what did your uncle teach you?”

Zuko pauses for a moment then smiles. “You’re right. Strategy, politics, diplomacy, leadership, patience…tea.” Mentioning his uncle lightens him up without a fail. Katara thinks that maybe it reminds him that even with a missing mother, an imprisoned father and a crazy sister, he is not all alone in the world.

“You forgot pai sho,” grins Katara.

“Don’t even remind me of the pai sho,” he grimaces.

_She helps him get into the ornate long robe._

“I still feel like a kid playing dress up… What if they don’t listen to me?” Zuko is back to worry-mode.

“They will. You are their legitimate ruler, and more importantly, they will see that you are right.” At least she hopes they will.

_He bows his head slightly, so she can tie up his hair._

The black locks feel like pure silk under her fingers. They never touched much before, but since she has been healing him constantly in the past few days, she has become more tactile with him. He closes his eyes and leans into the touch lightly. Katara fusses with the knot for an unnecessarily long time; both of them unwilling to break contact.

_Katara pins the three-pronged golden headpiece into the topknot._

He raises his head and his transformation is complete. In this moment, she’s acutely aware that he’s not only her dear, awkward friend, but also the Fire Lord, who belongs to his people. The feeling of closeness is replaced by a feeling of grief as she realizes that the part of their lives roaming free as a group of friends is irrevocably over. Something whispers inside her that it was probably the best part, only they didn’t realize it then.

“Aang said that he’ll leave for the Earth Kingdom tomorrow,” Zuko says quietly. There is a question hidden in the statement which he doesn’t say, but Katara hears nonetheless. Will she leave as well?

“Iroh needs his help to prepare for the peace conference… I mean it’s good no? We’ll be together again in two weeks.” Katara rambles instead of replying because she simply doesn’t know. It’s all hellishly complicated. In wartime, necessity ruled their life often leaving them no option, but now that peace is here, the future is wide open. Zuko’s and Aang’s destiny is written, but she’s free to become who she wants to be. Suddenly it feels like a terrible weight and she’s unsure if she’s capable of making a choice.

“Yeah, it’s good,” mutters Zuko, but there is a sadness in his eyes. He takes a deep breath and motions to his attire. “How does it look?”

Katara steps closer.

_She smoothes her fingers over his eye gently, purple-red mark blooming under her fingertips._

The scar feels dry, scaly and warm. It reminds Katara that pomp and circumstance is only the surface, her dear friend underneath remains who he is. Reckless, brave, heroic, caring. She’s unsure if the caress is a good-bye or a promise. He goes very still and surrenders to her touch, just like he did that day.

“Perfect,” she nods.

They are yet again on the crossroads of their destiny, except this time the choice is hers to make. And now she feels the agony he must have felt, torn between the familiar and the new. She breaks away.

She squeezes his arm and nods at him encouragingly. “Go, knock them out…”

_“…moose-lion,” she says and he flashes a big toothy smile at her. He runs out of the hut. One of his friends, dressed as a penguin, greets him. “Cool Zuko-costume, Bumi. But I think the scar is on the wrong side.” “No, it’s not on the wrong side,” retorts Bumi, and waves back at Katara one last time before the boys race towards the communal hall where the costume party is about to begin._

_Katara watches his son skipping away happily, dressed as Fire Lord. Before, it would have been unimaginable for someone in the water tribe to pick a Fire Nation costume, but Aang and Zuko working tirelessly on peace have managed to turn things around in a surprisingly short time._

_But there is more than that. Zuko is Bumi’s personal hero since he took the devastated boy last summer on a trip to the Fire Nation, while his siblings were training with their bending, introducing him to swordfighting, theater, white sandy beaches and other exciting adventures. Things he should have done with his father, but…well,…never got to. The trip changed the boy, he came back all laughter and confidence._

_Katara looks at the frayed golden thread stuck to her hand and wraps it around her finger. In the last pale rays of the setting winter sun it looks like a golden ring. She closes her eyes and as the fading light caresses her face, she lets herself think about the life she didn’t choose._

_When darkness falls over the South Pole, she goes home and starts preparing dinner. The kids will be back from the party soon and hearing their excited chatter over the family meal is the favourite part of her day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why such a fluffy prompt ended up with such a sad tone. Anyway, the fic doesn't want to imply that Katara was unhappy with Aang - the relationship was not perfect - and if she chose differently, there would have still been obstacles to overcome.


	10. Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Zuko almost gets killed, Katara has to use drastic measures to bring him back.
> 
> Written for Zutara Month 2018

**30 Days of Zutara - Day 22: Assassin**

Zuko sighed. The budget plan was extremely long and complicated, the numbers danced in front of his tired eyes. He took a sip of the steaming cup that he didn’t remember having asked for. Ginseng. Uncle’s favourite, though he would have had a word or two about over-brewing it. It left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

Zuko turned his attention back to the numbers, they were becoming more and more blurry. He pinched the bridge of his nose, but his vision did not clear. Then everything happened fast; his limbs stopped obeying him when he tried to get up, he wanted to yell for help but no sound came, his veins were burning and he crashed to the floor.  _Poison_. He managed to knock over an antique vase as he collapsed, which shattered with a loud noise. Zuko watched the fragments fly around in slow motion. The last thing he saw was the infinite blue of her eyes…

. _..and there he was floating between the sparkling ocean and the azure sky.  It was calm, soothing. Timeless. He never imagined the spirit world would be so beautiful. Aang told him about restless, disgruntled spirits, Uncle Iroh never much said anything about the place, but his eyes betrayed sadness. Zuko always imagined that his death would be all fire and ashes, but suspended in this gentle caress, relief washed over him. It was really not that bad…_

_He floated towards the myst and he could see the outlines of the shore. A familiar figure was standing on the shore in a blue tunic. His heart stopped, which was certainly weird, because surely it was already not beating, being dead and all. But then again, the spirit world had its own rules._

_“You…don’t belong here,” he stammered._

_Katara looked back at him, her eyes angry, “Neither do you, Zuko. You have to get back.”_

_Suddenly the floating did not seem like such an attractive option. “I… I don’t know how,” he admitted sadly. “I can only drift.”_

_“This is my element, and it will obey me,” said Katara with conviction. “Just work with me.”_

_“What do I have to do?” he asked._

_“Do you trust me?” there was something desperate in her voice that made him feel uneasy._

_“Yes.” he replied without hesitation._

_“Then just let it happen,” she said and summoned the waves. She shaped the water into dozens of long fingers. He fought her countless times, but it was a move he didn’t recognize. The cool fingers crawled up his skin, surrounding him completely, like translucent ropes binding him and holding him down. He waited. She lifted her hand, it was a small move, but suddenly the waters-fingers all lengthened into pointy ends like sharp icicles. With a flick of her wrist the icicles all pricked through his skin, and kept burrowing themselves deep into his vein. The pain was blinding. Worse than having your face burnt off, worse than being hit by lightning. Zuko screamed and tried to pull away, but Katara kept her icy grip on him._

_“Don’t fight it. Let it happen,” she said calmly. “You have to trust me.”_

_Zuko nodded. He tried to focus, breathe through the pain, like he did during his recovery after the Agni kai. In. Out. In. Out._

_“Much better.” Katara nodded. She flicked her wrist again, and it felt like salty water washing over a thousand open wounds. Sharp burn everywhere. Greenish-black puss flowed out of his body, down the watery tubes. When all the black stuff was gone replaced by clear, red blood, Katara raised her hand. “You’ll have to do the rest, Zuko.”_

_She cut the watery cords and Zuko started falling at dazzling speed. His body crashed violently into the ocean, sinking deep, until it was all dark and cold. He was disoriented, and struggled for a breath. This is the end then, he thought, all the pain was in vain…_

_But then he heard it through the waves, like a mantra Never give up without a fight. Never give up without a fight. Never give… He raised his head with great effort until he saw a flickering light. The surface. He kicked with his legs, propelling himself toward the golden specks. Agni was showing him the way. His arms and legs were so cold, he could barely move, but he kept swimming nevertheless. He broke through the surface and gasped for air…_

He opened his eyes and the first thing he saw was the infinite blue of her eyes. She looked upset. He had no idea what he did this time to piss her off. “Katara…” he whispered.

“I came as fast as I could,” she said, almost angrily. “How could you not tell me? I had to learn from Suki. About the other attempts.”

“I did not want you to worry,” he muttered.

Katara ignored his weak protest. “And how you constantly disregarded the precautions the royal guard suggested. Like someone tasting you food…”

“This way nobody else had to get hurt.” Zuko shrugged.

“Nobody else?” Katara snapped. “What do you think will happen if you die, Zuko? Who will keep the peace? Your father? Your sister? The blood-thirsty generals? We can’t lose you.”

“I didn’t think…”

“I can’t lose you,” tears were welling in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Katara,” he reached out and squeezed her hand weakly.

“I had to bend your blood to get the poison out,” she sobbed. Oh, so, that’s what it was…He knew how Katara felt about using that particular power of hers, how she felt it destroyed a part of her. He hesitantly touched her hair and she leaned her head against his chest, her tears soaking his tunic.

“It’s ok…” Zuko whispered and patted awkwardly her head. “It’s ok…” His arms wrapped around her as held her quietly until her crying subsided and she took a deep breath. She dried her eyes. There was a long silence and he felt like an idiot for making her cry.

“So what happens now?” he asked.

“You’ve made it through the worst, but there is still a ways to go to full recovery,” she explained on her healer voice.

“You are staying then?” The thought made him uneasy, but also filled him with hope.

“As long as it takes…” she said firmly.

“Katara, what will Aang say or your father…”

She shrugged. “I can’t help Aang teaching air acolytes, and my father taught me that a water-tribe warrior always knows where she’s needed most.”

Zuko was pretty certain that Hakoda meant the men, but it was also true that she was every bit the water-tribe warrior no matter what the customs of her tribe said.  “Katara, you can’t…”

“You maybe Fire Lord now, Zuko, but you’re my patient and I’m in charge here. So stop arguing,” she cut his protests short.

“As if I ever stood a chance with you…” he scoffed.

“You see. It’s easier just to accept it.” she smirked. And truly, it was easier. Zuko suddenly felt an absurd exhilaration, that he wouldn’t be so alone in the huge, empty palace.

“Katara…” he whispered.

“What now?” she asked with mock annoyance.

“Thank you,” caressing her hand with his thumb.

She ran her fingers through his hair, down his scarred cheek and smiled. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of a fix-it fic, because I'm still not OK with the canon that with the exception of Suki, the Gaang just let Zuko deal alone with multiple assassination attempts, knowing that if Katara is around, she could actually save him.


	11. Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new fire lord is crowned; Zuko and Katara look both to the past and to the future.
> 
> Canon-compliant (sort of)
> 
> Written for Zutara Month 2018 - Day 23 - Coronation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: major character death(s) mentioned in passing, traumatic childbirth mentioned, premature birth

**30 Days of Zutara - Day 23: Coronation** **  
**

As the fire sage lifted the flame-shaped crown, the crowd grew eerily quiet, everyone holding their breaths. Katara watched intently from the first row; the headpiece glistening in the sun. The fire sages chanted something in the ancient language of the Fire Nation and the crown was placed into the topknot. The crowd erupted in cheers and the new Fire Lord stood up. Katara looked at the golden eyes burning with determination, remembering the first time she saw them.

_30 years ago, South Pole_

Katara ran out of the healing hut hearing the commotion outside. Panicked voices, shouting, people pointing to the sky greeted her. The warriors in the village were rushing back to their homes to gather their weapons. Katara saw the red spot in the distance that grew larger, until the contours of a dragon appeared on the horizon. She smiled; she only knew one person with a dragon, then she frowned, because if he showed up like this, out of nowhere, unannounced, it had to be something bad.

“Don’t worry, it must be Zuko,” she calmed down the fellow villagers. The dragon kept getting closer - _spirits, Druk has gotten big_ , when Katara last saw him, he was just the size of a red scarf, hanging around Zuko’s neck. Well, they haven’t seen each other for a long time…but Bumi was born less than a year ago and the pregnancy and motherhood made it difficult for Katara to travel.

The dragon landed gracefully in front of her and Zuko jumped down from its neck, his pale face grim, with dark circles around his eyes. Not caring with the usual greeting protocols, he walked straight up to Katara.

“Aang’s not here,” she said.

“I came to see you,” he said on a strained voice and held out a tiny bundle “Save her, please.”

Katara took the bundle and saw a tiny nose peeking through the swaddling clothes. She nodded and went running towards the healing hut, Zuko following in her footsteps. Once inside, Katara carefully unwrapped the baby - she was thin and fragile, much smaller than a newborn should be. Her features a miniature, delicate version of Zuko’s face were distorted by pain, her eyes were closed, and her entire body was a shade of unhealthy purple.

Katara summoned some glowing water on her palms. She felt the weak heartbeats and the faintness of her chi. The baby was too young, too little. “We’ll put her in the healing water,” she explained to Zuko.

“Wouldn’t it be too cold for her?”

“You can warm it up a little,” she pointed to the smallest pool. Zuko breathed on it, and Katara tested it with her elbow. When the water was at body temperature, she placed the baby inside the pool.

“We got some of the spirit water from the North inside it - every little helps…”

She was not sure if he heard her, he kept his eyes fixed on the baby. “What happens now?” his voice was hoarse.

“Now we wait.” Zuko nodded and sat on his heels by the pool, his face grim, his lips pulled into a thin line. Katara left the hut and returned with a fur blanket and steaming cup of seaweed soup. He wrapped the blanket around Zuko and gave him the cup. “Drink this, looks like you haven’t eaten in a while.”

“I rode for 2 days straight,” he finally looked at her and she could see his eyes were bloodshot.

“What happened?” Katara asked quietly.

“I don’t know. Things looked fine, then one day Mai collapsed, she started bleeding - and the doctors had no idea what was happening. They delivered the child, but she…” a single tear ran down his cheek.

“Zuko…” she grabbed his hand.

Zuko stared into his cup. “Mai didn’t make it. She slipped away. The doctors were useless, and told me the baby would die too.”

“I’m so sorry,” Katara put her arms around his shoulder, squeezing it, he rested his head against her shoulder.

“I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I had to try something. This way at least she has a chance,” he whispered.

“You did good. You should sleep now.”

Zuko shook his head. “No, I have to watch her…”

“I’ll stay right here and watch her, Zuko. I’ll wake you up if something changes,” Katara said firmly.

He nodded, clearly too exhausted to argue, and dropped his head on the bedroll. He fell asleep almost immediately. Katara sat watching them sleep side by side - father and daughter.

-0-

The baby survived the night. Zuko woke way before the first rays of sun, as always. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was Katara’s smile as she was doing another healing session with the baby. “Her heart is stronger, that’s good news. Here, hold her against your chest.”

Zuko put the baby on his chest.

Katara shook her head, “No, not like that, skin to skin. She needs warmth and hearing your heartbeat can make hers more regular.”

He opened his tunic and tucked the little baby against his skin. She was so small, so fragile that he was afraid he would break her. His hands shook slightly, as he clumsily embraced her. The baby melted against his chest, her little hands trying to grab onto the skin. He could feel the tiny heartbeat echoing inside him, it was soothing and terrifying at the same time. Their breathing fell into a rhythm and Zuko for the first time in days felt that maybe it will be OK.

“What’s her name?” Katara asked.

“She doesn’t have one,” Zuko explained. “In the Fire Nation, babies are not named for the first week of their life, so the evil spirits who would claim them cannot find them. We call them turtle duckling or little dragon, or some such thing to mislead them.”

“Turtle Duckling… that’s cute,” smiled the waterbender.

-0-

Zuko stayed with the baby in the healing hut for a week. Katara taught him how to bathe her, change her, dress her. He studied it with the kind of intensity he did everything in his life.

When the baby whimpered, Katara brought her turtle-seal milk in a bottle, which she sucked at hungrily. She gave her a whalebone rattle that she grasped in her little hand.

When she was not in the healing pool, Zuko sat with her, holding her on his chest against his skin letting his fire kindle hers. When Katara put her hands on the baby, she could feel their chis connecting.

On the third day, the baby finally opened her eyes. Katara was not at all surprised to see Zuko’s golden eyes look back at her from the china-doll face.

“Looks like she has the spark, Zuko.”

“I don’t care one way or another. She’s already perfect,” he said with conviction.

On the seventh day, the baby was strong enough to travel. Katara rocked her wrapped in thick furs to protect her from the wind as Zuko was getting Druk ready to travel.  When all their packs, including an ample supply of turtle-seal milk was secured on the back of the dragon, Zuko went back to Katara.

“Thank you for your help,” he bowed to her formally, “Sifu Katara. You made a miracle happen.”

She smiled. “Well, she did most of the work  - she has your fighting spirit.  I’m glad she’s OK. Have a safe trip back Zuko. You and Little Turtle Duckling.”

“Izumi, her name is Izumi,” he said.

Katara’s eyes opened wide in surprise. The little Fire Nation princess would be named in honour of the healing waters of the water tribe that saved her life.

“That’s beautiful,” she said. Zuko got on the dragon and Katara handed him the baby. Druk took off with a powerful blast of his wings. Katara watched them go until the red dot disappeared below the horizon.

***

_Caldera city - Present Day_

Katara stood on the balcony, watching the garden of the Fire Nation palace shrouded in soft moonlight. The sounds of the party filtered through the thick curtains faintly. It was peaceful out here; one of the most beautiful places she had ever seen, with fragrant flowers, little ponds, tree branches swaying gently in the breeze. She turned when the curtain parted behind her and Zuko appeared, holding his 1-year old grandson on his arms. He had none of the clumsiness of that first week; he carried the boy with the confidence of a parent who rocked his child to sleep on many sleepless nights. Katara smiled when she saw the whalebone rattle in the boy’s hand.

“It’s good you could come, Katara,” he said warmly.

“Of course,” she said. It was the first time since Aang’s death that she had left the South Pole.

“She was great today, you can be really proud of her.” Zuko never remarried, and raised Izumi by himself. They were incredibly close to each other; Katara saw the depth of their bond the way they interacted with each other.

“I am,” he said simply. “She’s ready.”

“So what will happen to you now?”

“I will retire. My uncle used to say a man needs his rest, and I feel really exhausted,” he said quietly.  Katara understood. Zuko had been running a country since he was 17, through the first few troubled years of the fragile peace, he hammered out trade agreements, helped Aang set up Republic city, organized the united army, and turned around the economy. Somehow he also managed to raise a daughter. He certainly earned his retirement. “Now I understand why Iroh wanted to stay in his tea shop.” he added.

“Are you planning to open one?” Katara joked.

Zuko laughed. “No, I don’t want to inflict my bitter tea on anyone. I was thinking of travelling.”

“I thought you wanted to rest. Didn’t you constantly travel as Fire Lord?”

“Well, yes, into conference centers, boring diplomatic dinners, never seeing really anything that mattered. I want to go now and just savour it. To be free - to be me. You know, to really feel how things changed and not have a picture painted for me.”

“Sounds nice.” Katara said dreamily.

Silence settled between them. Zuko looked at her, opened and closed his mouth a few times. Finally he took a deep breath and said, “You could come with me.”

“What?”  That was unexpected.

Zuko swallowed, “I meant - we could travel together… like old days…except you know without the me chasing you around part…”

“Camping in the woods? Sparring during breakfast preparation?” Katara grinned. It was hard, and at times scary, but the time spent together was also the best part of her life.

“If that’s what you want…” chuckled Zuko.

“I don’t know, Zuko. Sounds lovely, but…”

“But what?” Indeed what? If she was honest with herself, Katara knew there was nothing and nobody to hold her back. Aang was gone, their children grown, living their own lives. She had trained many healers to staff the healing hut. She was going back to her silent hut into the long, dark winter of the South Pole, just because that was what widowed women of the Southern Water Tribe were expected to do. Well, she had fought expectations her entire life and she wasn’t going to stop now.

He looked into his pale gold eyes that were still burning with the same fire as they did when he was a 17-year old, even if his face was lined now and his once sea raven black hair was peppered with white. A fire that scared her and attracted her with its intensity. A fire that challenged her and made her chi surge in response. She had been a calming spring for too long, she wanted to be crashing waves and raging storm again.  If Zuko had adventures left in him, so did she. “Nothing. I’d love to go.”

He smiled, a wide genuine smile. “Great. Where do we go first?”

Katara didn’t have to think much. There was one place in the world that was more special than anything. Even after many decades the white sand, the azure waves, the salty sea air were etched into her heart with a clarity. “That’s easy, Ember Island.”

Zuko squeezed her hand. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because my Katara would not sit around alone in the South Pole.


	12. Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time when Katara almost marries and the time she really does. Tooth-rotting fluff. post-series AU.
> 
> Written for Zutara Month 2018 - Day 24: Wedding

**30  Days of Zutara Day 24: Wedding**

Katara is dangling her feet over the edge, staring at her yellow silk slippers with intricate silver embroidery that match the patterns on her wedding dress, made in Air Nation colours. The deep abyss below her is full of clouds. It’s an apt symbol of her life, after all she just stepped off the deep end so-to-speak, for a reason she does not fully understand. She feels confused, sad and utterly awful that she’s not as devastated as she should be.

Zuko finds her - of course he does, he finds people that’s what he does after all - and sits down next to her. He doesn’t say anything, but the unspoken words echo in her head.

“You think I’m an idiot,” she states.

“I said nothing. Are you all right?” his voice is warm, full of concern.

“You should ask Aang. I’m the one who’s doing the heart-breaking,” she snaps at him, not because he has done anything wrong, but because it’s easy. She never had to tread around him carefully, he could take whatever she threw at him.  

He looks at her calmly. “I already asked him. He has no idea why you ran away in the last second. Also, your dad got him very drunk; I hope the hangover won’t send him into the Avatar state.”

“It’s not a joke, Zuko,” scoffs Katara.

“Am I laughing?” His face is serious, but there is just a hint of mocking in his eyes.

“How did you find me?”

“I always find you. That’s my specialty, remember?” he says, echoing her thoughts from earlier. “We used to spar here. You always chose the spot with the most water.”  _Good old days._

“Things were easier then - why are they so complicated now?”

“Maybe it’s part of growing up,” he shrugs. They sit in silence, dangling their feet and Katara thinks that somehow this feels right.

“I hate that I’m hurting him. I don’t even  know why. I just woke up this morning and it felt all wrong. I sound pathetic…” she says quietly.

“No, it doesn’t…it’s a big deal to marry someone,” he replies thoughtfully.

“I was the one talking him into the wedding… “ she continues bitterly. “Air nomads don’t even marry. Did you know?”

“Yes, he told me.” Zuko nods simply. Katara knows that Aang tells him things he doesn’t tell her. Working on world peace has brought them close together - the Avatar and the Fire Lord. Best friends. Aang spends as much time with Zuko as with her.

“I wanted it so badly, and now I can’t stand the idea. How does that make any sense?”

Zuko shakes his head. “People change - once upon a time, all I wanted was to capture the Avatar, and now I’m hugging him while he’s crying into my shirt and holding his hair while he’s throwing up.”

“Aang doesn’t have any hair.”

“It was a figure of speech.”

“Is he going to be alright?” Katara worries that the disappointment will change him.

“He’s a pretty resilient kid. I’m sure he’ll get over it - not that you are easy to get over….” he rambles and suddenly his good cheek turns pink. “It will be tough for a while, but you’ll make it.”

“How do you know?”

“I know both of you. Your friendship is stronger than this. He doesn’t hold a grudge very long, and you are terribly persistent when you want to be,” Zuko smirks.

“When I know what I want.” Right now she has no idea what she wants and only a vague notion of what she doesn’t want.

“Well, maybe that’s what you need to do. Figure out what you want. I mean we fought for peace, it’s only fair that you would get to enjoy it.”

“We can probably cross out marrying the Avatar from the list.” Katara sighs.

“What else is on the list? What does Master Katara of the Southern Water Tribe want to do with the rest of her life?” Katara hates that she has not answer to this question.

“I don’t know. Maybe a water-bending school or I could set up new hospitals, or run for first woman chief of the Southern Tribe…or…” she shrugs. “You know, it’s easy for you. You always knew who you were supposed to be.”

“Not always. But my mother told me before she left to never forget who I was. That kept me searching. It still does.” Zuko’s voice gets all soft when he talks about his mother. Katara loves that about him.

“So you’re saying I have to work on finding myself?” she wonders.

“We all do. It’s like a ship - as the wind changes, and the waves shift, you have to adjust your sail.” Zuko sometimes sounds like his uncle, wise, confident.

“Didn’t you have a steam ship?”

“Sokka took me ice-dodging, remember?”

“How could I forget? You had pneumonia afterwards…” Katara scowls.

“Maybe this will help…” he hands her a small box, carved from red cypress native to the Fire Nation and inlaid with carved opals.

“What is this?”

“Your wedding gift,” he smiles.

“But I didn’t get married,” she protests because tonight she’s the bad guy and she feels she doesn’t deserve it.

“Then it’s your un-wedding gift,” he smirks.

“There is no such thing…”

“I’m the Fire Lord. If I say there is, then there is,” he says in a voice that supposed to be authoritative, but just makes Katara giggle. “I carried it all the way here. Might as well open it.”

She opens the lid and not in her wildest dreams she could imagine this; water-bending scrolls written in the dialect of the Southern Water Tribe, a whole treasure trove of forgotten bending forms. “Zuko - how did you find this?”

“I asked the royal archivist - once I found out that there was actually a guy in the palace just for that - to look for anything that might have survived the raids. He tried to even piece together as much as he could find on the history of Southern Water-Bending.”

Katara holds the scrolls to her heart and tears are pooling in her eyes. “Thank you…Zuko, these are the most amazing…”

“You are welcome…” he says simply. “I hope you’ll find what you are looking for, but I’m sure that these are part of who you are. I’ll go back and check on Aang.” He gets up to leave.

“Thanks. I need to be alone for a while.”

Zuko looks back. “I know. And…Katara…Whatever happens, remember that you are always welcome in the Fire Nation…”

“Thanks Zuko. You’re a good friend,” Katara smiles warmly, and thinks that maybe she’ll be able to face tomorrow.

“I learnt from the best,” he rasps with a lopsided smile.

_Five years later_

Katara is wearing a new seal-skin and arctic puma fur outfit - a gift from the tribe - and tries for the first time to tie her hair into a traditional braided bun of a married woman.

“You look good, Katara,” Aang steps through the door of the hut and, Spirits, he has grown so much, again. Katara has to get on tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck.

“You made it,” she was terrified that he wouldn’t come. “Are you here to make sure I don’t escape this time?” Zuko was right, time helped. Now they can joke about their almost-wedding.

“I didn’t want to miss it for the world…” he grins. “Sokka said it should be fun…I have no idea how you talked Zuko into this.”

“Well, I agreed to do the whole formal 4-day long royal ceremony back in the Fire Nation. It’s only fair he gets the Southern Tribe treatment first,” Katara laughs.

“You look happy.” Aang remarks and Momo climbs enthusiastically on her shoulder.

“I feel more sure about who I am,” she says.

“Sifu Katara, who re-established Southern Waterbending. Future Fire Lady. You’ve done a lot. But something is missing,” he steps closer.

Katara frowns, “What?”

“You are not really you without the hair loopies,” Aang smirks and hands her a little package wrapped in a small canvas back. Katara opens it carefully, and she finds two delicately carved beads, made from the same blue opal as her mother’s necklace.

“We managed to revive the carving traditions of the Eastern Air Temple,” Aang explains proudly. He has done a lot too in their time apart. Other than working on peace, he renovated the air temples and repopulated them with air acolytes, war orphans, disenchanted veterans.

“These are beautiful,” Katara says and loops them into her hair. “Thank you, Aang,” and she starts crying, because after all, she didn’t have to lose either herself or her dear friend. Their relationship was strong enough.

“You’re welcome. Things are going well at the air temples… Also you’re not the only one to get married.”

“What? You found someone…” Katara is always hoping that Aang would come one day with a girl, but then she remembers, air nomads don’t really marry.

“We found a small herd of sky bisons,” Aang says enthusiastically.

“No kidding…”

“Appa will be a dad, I can’t wait,” Aang’s eyes are shining like always, with the enthusiasm of a child that never stops marveling at the world. His spirit roams free and it’s what Katara loves about him the most. It’s also what made things difficult between them.

“Aang, that’s wonderful.” It’s another little sign that maybe the world is slowly tipping back towards balance.

“Yes, things are coming back to life - Zuko’s dragon, the sky bisons, and next….” he smiles a little smile and Katara holds her breath because she knows what is his biggest wish, and she wants it so badly for him.

“Airbenders,” she whispers.

Aang nods. “I think so. Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“It turns out Ty Lee is an airbender. She visited one of the air temples, and it was like a switch turned on as she reconnected with the element. I’m teaching her basic forms.”

“Wow. This is great, Aang.” Katara grabs his hand enthusiastically.

The sound of horns announces the return of the hunting party.

“You don’t want to miss this…” grins Katara and pulls Aang out to the front.

The sleds come at neck-breaking speed. Zuko dressed in water-tribe clothes tries desperately to steer his, but it crashes into the snowbank. The whole village giggles as the fire lord turns into a snowman. He swears under his breath.

“Quickly, I need someone to cut the ice for me,” orders Sokka.

“I thought you said three chores,” grumbles Zuko as he tries to free himself from the snow.

“Katara is a master waterbender and healer, plus the Chief’s daughter. Are you saying that she’s only worth three chores?” Sokka taunts him loudly as is the custom of the tribe. Zuko trods over to Sokka and cuts through the ice with his bending.

“There,” he grits his teeth.

“I worked for my wife for a whole year.” Hakoda laughs.

“Well, and I would be all too happy to do that, but you know, between ice fishing and tea heating, I kind of have a whole country to run,” Zuko grumbles. He looks cold, miserable and exhausted.

“Oh, his honorable lordship is too busy to honour our customs…” Sokka continues to roast Zuko. He’s clearly having the time of his life, playing the part of the demanding older brother. Since everyone knows it’s just a game, Katara doesn’t mind.

“That’s not what I said…” Zuko protests, but he’s interrupted by Hakoda.

“This bathwater is certainly not hot enough - if only there was someone, let’s say a future son-in-law with a breath of fire…”

Zuko sighs then brightens up when he spots Aang. “Aang, thanks Agni, help a buddy out…would you?”

“I would, but it would be cheating for the Avatar to interfere…” Aang spreads his arms with a gesture of innocence, but bites his lips to hold back a laugh.

“Don’t forget the whale vodka.” yells Sokka from the bath house.

“Oh, not the damned whale vodka. You’re so gonna get the plum wine treatment, Sokka, next week,” warns Zuko as he balances a big tray with a bottle of fuzzy, white liquid and shot glasses for the whole tribe. Katara looks proudly at him, he’s taking the teasing in stride. Well, in stride, for a hot-headed, temperamental Fire Lord.  

-0-

“How do you like water-tribe weddings?” asks Katara when Zuko finally stumbles back to their hut and climbs under the thick pelts with a groan.

“Well, I’m frozen, exhausted, and a full ten on a scale of little bit tipsy to totally drunk. It seems to me that the whole point is for everyone to enjoy themselves but the groom,” he complains as he scoots closer to her.

“The groom gets the enjoyment under the fur blanket,” Katara whispers huskily, blowing a little kiss on his earlobe.

He perks up immediately. “That’s an excellent point. And honestly, I’ll crawl on hands and knees in the ice and snow, to get under your fur blanket. Best place in the South Pole.”

Katara giggles. “Only the South Pole?”

“Best place anywhere.”  Zuko hugs Katara tightly, and kisses her deeply. “It’s home. It’s the family I’ve always wanted.”

Katara kisses him back and feels like her whole world falls into balance for one sweet moment. She knows who she is, she knows exactly where she wants to be and it’s right here.


	13. Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 30: Proposal - Written for Zutara Month 2018

**30 Days of Zutara - Day 30: Proposal**

“So…I’ve been thinking. I used to believe that I had to do everything alone and that made me stronger. But since you’ve been here - I’ve realized something. Together, we are just much better - like, you remember the fish in the North Pole?…uhm…” Zuko slaps his forehead with frustration. “Come to think of it, I really shouldn’t mention the North Pole, because I was bad then and had a ponytail, well, it’s technically a phoenix plume, but you told me you didn’t like it… “ he realizes that he rambles now and stops himself with a pinch on the bridge of his nose.

“Anyways, what I’m trying to say is that we complete each other - not that you are not complete without me - but like the sun and the moon. You shine light in my darkness and it’s not so scary. And… I don’t want be alone anymore, and that maybe you could stay… like…forever and I realize it’s complicated. I really wish it wasn’t. But I think you would be amazing and I…I… urgh… this is terrible.” he spreads his arms in desperation. “So, what I’m trying to say, Katara - will you marry me?” Silence.

“Yeah, I know. This is really bad.” The badger-frog croaks in affirmation.  “How am I ever going to do this?” The Fire Lord sighs dramatically. The frog blinks his round eyes skeptically and hops away without an answer.

The situation is critical. Katara is about to leave and Zuko has no idea if she would be back. They haven’t talked about it. She showed up a few months ago with a plan for a new healing-house exchange system where the healers of the four nations would work together to learn from each other and expand their knowledge. After initial skepticism, the system took off. If Katara put her mind to something, nothing could stop her. And when Zuko agreed with it, they just steamrolled any resistance. Together they were twice as stubborn - the force of an erupting geyser. But now the system is up and running and Katara announced she would be leaving for the South Pole for the solstice festival. Which is why the Fire Lord is pacing restlessly in the garden, talking to badger-frogs. He knows it’s pathetic.

He has accepted long ago that she’s the love of his life. He also knows without a doubt that she would be the Fire Lady this country fighting to regain its honour and soul needs. She would be amazing. No question. But what does she want? 

He knows it’s time to ask, yet he’s terrified of the answer. They have been dancing between friendship and something more for a long time. It’s inconvenient at times, but it’s also the best thing that ever happened to him and he got used to the tension. It’s familiar. He has perfected his part of the game. As much as he yearns to move on, he is also afraid of losing it all. Eyes closed he weighs his options.

.

-0-

There is a soft knock on her door and she’s not surprised to find Zuko outside. He’s wearing a simple, comfortable tunic and his hair is loose, framing his face in an adorable mess. He looks uncertain as he’s standing on the doorstep, so Katara invites him in wordlessly.

He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again. She knows he’s here for the talk they cannot put off any longer. But instead of asking the question, he walks over to her small bag. “Are you all packed then?”

“Yes, well, I travel light.” Katara shrugs.

“The ship is ready for you.” He says all businesslike as he’s pacing in the room. “It will be at your disposal… for as long as you need it. You know, if you need to go somewhere else or…” and Katara is about to interrupt him but he adds quietly with a pleading, almost vulnerable look. That look always tugs at her heartstrings, “…or come back.”

“Do you want me to?” Katara asks breathlessly.

He looks away. “I wouldn’t presume…” he mutters and she turns her back not wanting to betray her disappointment. Zuko steps closer grabbing her hand. “But it’s been fun working together.”

“Yes, we make a good team.” Katara smiles at him. When she arrived full of ideas, she wasn’t sure what she was looking for. But now she’s quite sure she found it. She wants to keep creating, making a difference. She wants to fight the good fight with him. As equal partners, and he never treats her anything less. “But my father wants me back for the solstice festival, no doubt trying to arrange another match for me. He’s always trying, even though I told him that I make my own choices.” She looks at Zuko questioningly, hoping that she’s given him enough opening.

“You always have. Though I’m sure your dad will come up with an acceptable match.” Zuko says evasively, although a slight frown on his forehead betrays his utter annoyance with the idea.

Katara still feels disappointed that Zuko would speak so easily about her eventual betrothal to someone chosen by her father. “I don’t want an acceptable match. I want my destiny,” she snaps.

Zuko touches the blue pendant on her throat - his fingers barely brushing her skin, but the soft contact sends goosebumps down her spine. Her whole body screams for more but he keeps fiddling with the necklace as he speaks.“You know, when I found this, it gave me hope that I’d find my destiny finally. I wore it around my wrist all the time, to remind me that what I wanted was within my grasp if I fought for it.”

“And it was. You are Fire Lord, “ she says, leaving the silent question in the air.  _Will you fight for me?_

“Except now I know it was never about this.” Zuko motions around him to the reaches of the palace. She knows that he means it. He’s not in it for the pomp or the power. It’s his desire to do what’s right. “What I wanted was my family.”

Katara understands what he doesn’t say, she knows by now how to read him between the lines. He still doesn’t feel like he has a right to ask her to stay. Luckily, Katara is not the same person she used to be. After months of playing the ruthless game of politics, she has learnt to go for what she wants instead of waiting. She unclasps her necklace. “Hold out your wrist.”

Zuko looks at her confused, but wordlessly does as he’s told. The way he trusts her so completely makes her feel like they are melding together; sometimes it’s difficult to tell where he ends and where she begins. The silence suddenly is heavy between them and she thinks she can feel his pulse quickening as she ties the necklace around his wrist. It looks right.

“To remind you that I’ll always come back,” she promises.

He stares at the necklace stunned. He knows what it means to her. “Won’t you miss it?”

“I know you’ll hold onto it for me.”

Zuko then lifts something out of his belt and Katara’s heart flips because before she sees it, she already knows this is it. The moment she didn’t realize she wanted so bad until it almost slipped away. Because it’s complicated. There will be opposition, here in the Fire Nation, maybe even from her own family.

But for this moment she doesn’t want to think about all that. She looks into his eyes that burn with determination and she has no doubt, it will be worth it. It already is. He holds a necklace, a purple amethyst on a soft velvet choker. Blue and red make purple and they are about to start something new.

“I … I’m not very good at carving,” he says apologetically, and Katara sees the symbols etched into the gem with fire. It’s the sun and the moon.

“Did you make this?” She asks and he nods. “It’s perfect. Do you know what this means if I wear this home?” He knows, of course, he does. But she wants to be sure. After all, Zuko is the Fire Lord, a simple misunderstanding could easily escalate into a diplomatic crisis.

He nods without missing a beat. “Yes. I want you to wear it.”

“Then I will.” Katara promises and lifts her hair so he can tie the necklace around her neck.

“Is that a yes?” Now he gives her an incredulous smile like he can’t believe his luck.

“You realize you haven’t asked me yet?” she laughs at the absurdity of the whole thing, that they somehow managed to get engaged without ever mentioning the word “marry”.

Zuko blinks then runs his hand through his hair nervously. “Sorry… I’m stupid…. I had a whole speech practiced.”

“Did you practice it with a badger-frog?” Katara can’t resist gently poking him.

“Why would you say that?” he grimaces.  _Oh, so that’s a yes then_ , she thinks.

“Because I know you. Well?” She arches her eyebrow.

“Yes…” he admits with an adorable pout that should not be legal. If she really becomes Fire Lady, maybe she can do something about it. “It was a good speech, but I can’t remember any of it.”

“Did it have to do something with the fish at the North Pole?” Katara wonders out loud. If she had to make a speech, she’d definitely bring up Tui and La and how they complement each other.

Zuko shakes his head a little bit too vehemently. “I was definitely not going to bring up the North Pole…”

“It’s a pity that you don’t remember it.” Katara continues to poke fun at him, because she enjoys the way he’s all flustered.

“I remember this part,” he rasps. Attack is a fire-bender’s best defense. He cups her face and the laughter dies in her throat. His gold irises lock into hers and her world constricts to the flames dancing in his eyes. His thumbs are caressing her gently, just under her earlobes in soft circles. It’s tantalizing. Then he leans in and kisses her. There is no hesitation - it’s pure fire and Katara feels the heat coursing through her, down to her toes. Maybe he’s not very good at words, but he’s always been excellent at showing it. The star-shaped scar on his chest is a permanent reminder. Katara touches it through the tunic as she returns his kiss. 

Years of tension and dance of desire explodes in the space between them. She’s not sure if the sparks she sees are real or not, but it doesn’t matter. As they melt together, it feels like destiny.

“I like this part,” she says huskily as their lips part. “Did you practice this with the badger-frog too?”

Zuko frowns for half a moment, then they both start to giggle. The tension melts away, leaving only exhilaration in its wake. They are really doing this. Sun and moon. Fire and water. Tui and La. As it was meant to be. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm leaving it here - with another story filled with shameless, tooth-rotting fluff.


	14. Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Zutara week 2019.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by this [fantastic fanart](https://royaltealovingkookiness.tumblr.com/post/186340164373/watermistress-our-fates-entwine-but-never)

The Painted Lady glided through the red-and-gold hallways silently. It had been so long since she set foot in this place. Not since the virtues of justice and charity were abandoned by its owners in pursuit of glory and riches. But there were murmurs that things had changed. She was curious. 

The kitchen was bustling with activity. Knives dancing on chopping boards, pans sizzling with sauces, the fire burning in the oven.

“Don’t forget the plum-glaze on the pig-chicken, Michi, it’s the General’s favourite,” the head cook elbowed a sleepy sous-chef.

Two young women were working on a dessert in the shape of a pond made from sparkling blue jelly, sculpting delicate turtle-ducklings out of melted candy. “It’s coming along nicely,” the chef gave them an encouraging nod.

She tasted the soup steaming in a huge pot with an uncertain expression. “Perhaps add a little bit more lemongrass? I’m afraid that the recipe I’ve had sent in from the South Pole is dreadfully unspecific on the spicing. But don’t make it too hot,” she instructed the plump woman in charge. 

The Painted Lady continued her way up to the second floor. Servants were busy decorating the dining hall with garlands and lampions. It was a cavalcade of colours and shapes; the sun and the moon, red and blue dragons, pink, green and yellow fish and birds. The long tables were already covered with crisp white table-cloth, and set with fine china bowls and plates. Laughter and chatter brightened the hall as the servants worked eagerly, careful to make everything perfect for the _omiyamairi._

The Painted Lady continued her way and came to a halt in front of a heavy wooden door. 

A young guard passed by her, unaware of her presence as he came running, yelling excitedly. “The guests have arrived.”

The woman standing in front of the door in Kyoshi uniform, motionless like a statue, scolded him on low voice. “Shhhh, she’s sleeping.”

The Painted Lady slid past them, into the room. It struck her how different it was from the rest of the palace. Brighter, softer. Instead of heavy crimson and gold curtains, the windows were covered with light white and blue linens. The paintings on the walls depicted curious animals from all around the world; penguins and turtle-seals ducking in icy ponds, sky-bison and flying lemurs soaring in the blue sky peppered with fluffy clouds, badgermoles clawing their way around their intricate tunnels under the green grass, dragons circling in the setting sun, turtle-ducks swimming in a pond, komodo-rhinos and ostrich-horses running wild in green pastures. A world once believed to be irrevocably lost. But hope sprung again that things could change for the better.  

She frowned when she noticed the figure covered in black leaning over the cradle. 

“You!” she said in alarm. “I didn’t think I’d find you here.”

The figure lifted his face, a familiar blue-and-white mask of permanently mischievous grin.

“Well, I could say the same, my Lady. It’s been far too long,” the Blue Spirit greeted her, his voice low and gravelly. 

She lifted her hands. “Step away, evil spirit, she’s under my protection. I’ve brought her gifts.”

There was no way he had a better claim than her to be the baby’s guide.

“Get in line then, I suggest,” he snickered, “because I got here first.”

“What could you give her that she’d want?” the Painted Lady grimaced. “The world has had enough evil already.”

“The spirit of freedom and self-reliance.” The Blue Spirit placed his hands over the cradle in a motion of blessing. “And that of selfless sacrifice,” he added quietly, like it was something private, something he didn’t want to share with her. 

“What would you know about selflessness?” She didn’t believe him for one second. He was a well-known trickster and trouble-maker, only ever looking out for himself.

“The truth is, we spirits are shaped by the beliefs of humans in us. And thanks to her father, people see me differently now. Something of a hero. Savior of the Avatar, I’m sure you heard,” the Blue Spirit winked at her. Yes, the Painted Lady had heard something about that, even if it was hard to believe that he of all spirits could ever change. “He helped me remember who I was and what I really stood for.”

The Painted Lady pondered his words. His story was strangely familiar. It was something they apparently had in common. 

“I know what you mean. I have started to fade away - there was too little justice and charity left in the world to sustain me. But her mother reignited the flame in people’s hearts and my shrines are once again alive. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been.”

“Justice and charity are noble gifts indeed. Go ahead, my Lady,” the Blue Spirit stood aside, letting her close to the crib.

Lifting her veil, the Painted Lady leaned over the sleeping baby. Fine, dark-brown curls framed her delicate face. 

“She’ll have her mother’s hair,” she noted with satisfaction. She felt connected to the young woman whose spirit awakened her from a long lull of frozen sleep, and by extension to this child.

The Painted Lady marked the baby’s sand-coloured skin with red spirit-paint for justice and drew a silver-moon on her forehead for charity. Her fingers were light as the night breeze, yet the little girl stirred and opened her eyelids. Her eyes shone like golden gemstones, as she stared at the spirits calmly. 

“She has her father’s eyes,” the Blue Spirit pointed out with satisfacton and reached out to tickle her arms gently. He seemed surprisingly warm, almost fatherly. 

The baby started to wiggle, kicking off her covers. The spirits gasped when they noticed the two rag-dolls lying next to her in the crib - black and white, blue and red, a man and a woman.

“That’s us!” They looked at each other in wonderment. 

The baby made excited noises. The connecting door opened immediately and a young man dressed in red pajama pants appeared with a worried face. 

“That’s him,” the Blue Spirit whispered.

The Painted Lady watched him curiously as he leaned over the crib and lifted the infant. _Was he good enough to have stolen the young girl’s precious heart?_ He held his daughter close to his bare chest, supporting the back of her fragile neck with his strong hand. The baby quieted against his heartbeat, her little fists gripping his long, black hair. 

“You think she’s hungry, Zuko?” A voice from the other room called. The Painted Lady recognized it immediately as the voice of the caring, young girl. 

“Maybe,” he replied. He ran his fingers along the baby’s cheek. “Come little Turtle-Duck, time to see Mummy.” 

They disappeared behind the connecting door. 

The Painted Lady hurried after them, but the Blue Spirit planted himself in her way.

“Where are you going, my Lady? Our mission is done here. You know the rules,” he reminded her.

He was right of course. The divide between the world of humans and spirits couldn’t be crossed lightly. The spirits were not to meddle unnecessarily. But the Painted Lady wanted to see her so badly, to make sure she was happy. She smiled coyly at the Blue Spirit, he was known for bending rules after all.

“Just a glance,” she promised and he let her pass. She glided through the door and he followed her only after a moment of hesitation. 

The room was veiled in silvery-soft moonlight. There she was on the large bed, propped up against the pillows, cradled in her husband’s arms, her blue eyes sparkling with the purest joy. The baby rested on her breast, small hands grasping unto her mother’s skin. The hungry gulps and snuffles of the infant as she suckled were the only noise in the room. 

“What a beautiful family,” the Painted Lady sighed happily. 

“I think they were made for each other,” the Blue Spirit nodded in agreement. “And however small, we had a part in this.”

“Ssshhhhhh,” someone shushed them. They looked around startled. Yue, the moon spirit scowled at them from above. 

The Painted Lady and the Blue Spirit backed out of the room quietly; it was never a good idea to anger the greater spirits. 

They paused in the empty nursery, unsure of how to proceed, now that fate brought them together in such a strange way. 

“Well, I guess, this is it, my Lady. Until next time,” bowed the Blue Spirit. 

The Painted Lady was about to say good riddance, for old times' sake but she couldn’t shake the picture of the happy family from her mind. Creation, rebirth, peace, unity, love. Maybe the spirits could learn from the humans too every once in a century. Maybe their faith in the spirits could really change them for the better. She watched the Blue Spirit pensively, remembering the young man cradling his family. 

“Actually, I’m heading south,” she started hesitantly. “Gaipo region is suffering from floods - I could use the help.”

To her surprise, the Blue Spirit nodded eagerly. “It is a worthy cause. Lead the way, my Lady.”


	15. Charades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Zutara Week 2019.
> 
> Prompt: Speak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book 1 AU

 

Katara looked into the mirror as she started to braid her hair for the day. The dark circles around her eyes painted a pretty accurate picture of the exhaustion she felt. They won, but the price of victory was high. Clogged up canals, collapsed bridges and roofs -  the Ocean Spirit’s anger left parts of the city devastated. 

 

And the dead. There were so many dead. Bodies floating up in the canals; most of them in tell-tale Fire Nation red, but there were also bodies clad in blue. People caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. Then there were the missing. That was the worst part; people wandering the streets in a daze looking for their loved ones. The waterbenders - Katara amongst them - were working around the clock, but after three days, the chances of finding anyone alive were thin. They were all at the end of their endurance. Still, those hollow gazes haunted Katara, there was especially one mother wailing, calling after her children that made her heart squeeze. She had to do something, she had to go back out again. 

 

A shadow passed by the mirror, dangling a familiar ponytail. Katara rubbed her tired eyes and looked again. _No, it couldn’t be. There was no way that Prince Angry-Jerk, the bane of her existence was in her room._ She spun around abruptly, popping the cork of her waterskin mid-motion, sending ice-shards at the intruder. The ice-daggers passed right through him and crashed against the wall with a loud clank. Katara pinched the bridge of her nose trying to will the apparition away, but incorporeal Jerk-Prince  just stood there with his usual scowl on his stupid face. 

 

“What are you doing here?” Katara hissed at him. 

 

Zuko folded his arms across his chest and grimaced. 

 

“Speak!” she yelled.

 

He opened his mouth, and rattled off something soundlessly. Katara had no idea what he was saying, but she was quite sure that the word “peasant” featured prominently in his silent monologue. _Maybe he died and came back to haunt her?_

 

“Are you dead?” Katara asked.

 

He seemed to ponder this question for a while. Finally, he shook his head. 

 

“If you are not dead, what are you doing here?” Katara shouted at him. “You know what? I really don’t care. You are a monster. Go back to whatever spirit-forsaken  place you crawled out from.” 

 

Zuko turned away in an inaudible huff and stomped towards the doorway. His stomping was much less effective without the sound-effects.

 

Sokka popped his head into the room. “Katara, are you ready?” His tired, sad eyes were tinged with red. He was still crying about Yue every night. Katara wished there was something she could do to help him through the pain, but she barely managed to drag herself through the days.

 

Zuko planted himself in front of Sokka waving his arms around, trying to catch his attention, but Sokka stepped right through him. Katara let out a small yelp. 

 

“You don’t see…?” she started, but then she realized that if she was going to finish that sentence, Sokka was going to freak out and insist on having her checked out in the healing huts. It was not worth it.  “....something strange?” 

 

“Other than you looking weird at me?” Sokka arched his eyebrows. “What’s up sis?”

 

Katara shook her head. “Nothing. Forget about it, let’s go.” 

 

Sokka marched right back through the still glowering prince, while Katara carefully stepped around him. She felt repulsed by the idea of touching him, even if he was in a ghostly state. 

 

Katara took deep breaths in the chilly air, hoping that it would clear the visions from her head. Pakku was already waiting for them by the canal. As they headed towards the collapsed bridge, they passed by the empty-eyed woman, still crying for her children. “Uki, Kalluk!” 

 

Pakku put his hands on her shoulders. “You need rest, Nella. Sokka will escort you to the healing hut. We’ll do everything we can to find them.” Sokka took the woman by the arm and led her away. 

 

“Do you think we can still find them?” Katara turned to Pakku with hope in her heart. “We could focus our efforts on the collapsed houses.”

 

He sighed heavily. “Even if they didn’t end up in the water and are somewhere under the rubble, they froze to death by now.”

 

Katara frowned at the old master. “But you told her…”

 

“I told her what she needed to hear right now, Katara.” Pakku said strictly. “Can you work on the west section of the bridge? This is the priority now.”

 

Katara nodded. She knew Pakku well enough by now to understand which battles were worth fighting. Bending bridges back into form was a considerably more difficult task than breaking them apart. She pulled wave after wave from the canal, and stuck it to the side of the pillar, trying to follow the original arch as closely as possible. It was finicky and mind-numbingly repetitive work. _What if there was a faster way?_

 

Knees bent, she scooped up a bigger wave. As she rotated into the movement, she found herself staring again into Prince Jerk’s angry yellow eyes, inches away from her own face. She yelped in dismay dropping the water back into the canal with a loud splash.  It was a weird feeling. His face was so close, yet she couldn’t feel his breath. It still felt like an invasion of her personal space. Katara stepped back and put her hands on her hips. 

 

“What do you want?” 

 

The prince pointed into the distance and made a motion with his hand that clearly meant follow-me.

 

Katara scoffed in contempt. “Follow you? How stupid you think I am? Whatever sick spirit-tricks you are playing, I’m not going to fall for them. You’ve been nothing but horrible; following us, trying to capture Aang, dragging him out of the Spirit Oasis. You could have killed him in the blizzard. And because of you, my necklace is lost again,” she yelled. Katara’s hands went to her empty neck, where she could feel the ghost of her mother’s pendant against her skin. It felt trite to complain about something like this when others have lost so much more, but to Katara it was like the line to her mother’s spirit was brutally severed. “It’s the last thing I had from my mum.” Tears pooled in her eyes and she felt stupid crying in front of the angry jerk who would understand nothing of her pain, but she couldn’t help herself. 

 

Through her tears, it seemed like his eyes softened. He extended his arm towards her, as if he wanted to put his hand on her shoulder. His lips formed something that could have been “I’m sorry,” but that was unlikely. His kind was never sorry for anything. 

 

“Just go away. You’ve done enough harm,” Katara turned away from him.

 

Ghost-Zuko pulled back his arm and it fell to his side helplessly. There was resignation in his eyes. He shook his head sadly and faded into the background.

 

Katara took a deep breath and went back to her work, wondering if he was ever really there or if she was simply starting to lose her mind because of the sleepless nights.

 

He came back again during her lunch-break, as she drank seaweed-soup from a bowl to regain her strength. He waved and pointed again in agitation. Katara was too exhausted to do more than poke her tongue at him. It was certainly too little to get rid of him.

 

He escorted her over to the healing huts. He followed her as she checked on Aang, still recuperating his strength. Apparently being possessed by a raging ocean spirit took a lot out of a person. It was probably for the better. Katara didn’t think that Aang would react to well to the bodies floating down the canals. It was better if he never knew. 

 

Aang smiled at her weakly when he noticed her. Katara took his hand in hers, checking on his pulse. Zuko knelt right next to her, leaning over Aang. Katara lost her patience. “Do you mind?” she glared at the ghost. 

 

The ghost-prince ignored her. Instead he kept poking Aang with his ghost-fingers to get the boy’s attention. Aang didn’t seem to feel anything; his eyes remained glued at Katara’s face.

 

“Mind what?” he muttered.

 

Katara tried to collect her thoughts. Maybe she could confide in Aang. He was the spirit-bridge after all. “Uhhm, Aang. Can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Do you think it’s possible to see the ghost of someone who is not dead?” Even as she said it, the question sounded silly.

 

“Well, it’s not likely. But I suppose it might be.” Aang said thoughtfully. “There are places that are windows to the spirit-world, and I guess the strangest things can happen. One of those windows is right here at the North Pole. Why? Do you see someone?” he asked suspiciously.

 

“No, it’s just something someone said. You don’t….never seen anyone?” Katara asked eagerly. Zuko leaned above Aang, waving his arms in front of Aang’s eyes.

 

Aang frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean, Katara. It’s just my head is still dizzy. Sorry,” he looked at her worried, nervous that she would be disappointed. 

 

“It’s ok, Aang. Just rest. I need to go back out there,” Katara turned away, cursing herself that she upset the boy. He was dealing with enough. 

 

Before she could walk away, Aang grabbed her wrist.

 

“How...how bad is it out there?” he asked sadly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

 

Katara forced a smile on her face. “It’s...fine. It will be as good as new by the time Yugoda lets you out of here.”

 

Zuko scoffed silently and rolled his eyes at her. Anger flared inside Katara. _How dare he judge her?_ It was his people coming here, bringing destruction. She was protecting the ones she cared about any way she could. 

 

It was time she dealt with him for good. 

 

“We need to talk,” she hissed at him and marched back to her room. 

 

Once safely inside, Katara lashed out at the glowering apparition. 

 

“I don’t know why you keep following me, but you can’t just butt into my conversation with my brother or with Aang. It’s rude. So speak. Tell me what you want, so I can get rid of you for good.”

 

Zuko pointed at his mouth and said something very slowly. Katara squinted, trying to read his lips. “Yell? Well?” she guessed. Zuko shook his head.

 

This clearly didn’t work.

 

“How about I do the speaking and you just nod?” Katara suggested.

 

He nodded.

 

“Am I the only one who sees you, right?” It was not really a question. She had watched him try to be noticed by others, but for some reason, only she could see him.

 

Nod.

 

“Let me guess. You are dead and here for revenge,” Katara snarled. Wasn’t that what all evil spirits did? 

 

He shook his head. He still didn’t think that he was dead. 

 

“So you are alive.”

 

He nodded again and put his arms around himself, as if he was shivering.

 

“You are cold,” Katara continued guessing.

 

He nodded.

 

She scoffed. “Welcome to the North Pole. Here is an idea; maybe you should have stayed in the Fire Nation. I’ve heard the climate is so much milder there,” Katara yelled angrily. 

 

Rage flashed in his eyes and his hands balled into a fist. He looked like he was about to breathe fire, except he had no body to bend with. He contented himself with trying to punch a hole in the side of the building. Predictably, as he lounged against the wall he proceeded to fall through it. 

 

 _So ridiculous._ He closed his eyes and pursed his lips, pondering something. 

 

Finally, he held up his hand, with three fingers extended. 

 

“Three.” Katara said.

 

He nodded. They were getting somewhere.

 

“Three what?” she asked.

 

He scratched his head. He held his arms next to his ears and swayed comically from one side to the other. He looked ridiculous, almost as bad as Sokka’s warrior dance.

 

“Three sloth-monkeys?” Katara speculated.

 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. He made a cradle out of his arms and started to move it in wildly swinging motions.

 

“Dancing? The sloth-monkeys are dancing?” asked Katara hopefully.

 

He shook his head in desperation and collapsed to his knees. He held up one finger and made a motion of writing and reading.

 

That finally made sense. “A scroll. You want me to bring a scroll?” Katara asked.

 

Vigorous nodding. 

 

“Wait, I think Sokka picked up some things in town.” She was fairly certain she saw her brother furtively putting a scroll in his bag when he thought nobody was watching. Of course, Katara was always watching. She hurried over to the other side of the room, behind the partition wall and rummaged through Sokka’s bags. They were the usual disaster of stinky socks and left-over food. Zuko watched skeptically, leaning his non-existent body against the door-frame.

 

“Ta-da,”  she said triumphantly holding up a scroll. She unrolled the parchment and stared mortified as a salacious drawing of a very obviously naked woman popped into her vision. Zuko’s ghost-eyes also bugged out at the sight. Katara felt herself blush. _Damn Sokka._ She really didn’t need to know what her brother was reading at nights. _Yuck._

 

“Sorry, I’ll find something else,” she muttered in embarrassment. 

 

Zuko shook his head. His finger pointed at a character, looking questioningly at Katara. 

 

She grimaced. “Yes, I can read. Of course, I can read,” she replied with annoyance. _Where did he think she grew up?_ Actually, of course he’d seen where she grew up. But just because it wasn’t a palace, it didn’t mean she couldn’t read. 

 

She followed his fingers. “He-lp. St-uck. Chi-ld-ren.”

 

Her eyes darted at him in shock.

 

“You are stuck with those children under the rubble?” she exclaimed.

 

Zuko sank back on his heels with a relieved nod.

 

“They are alive?” Katara asked with tearful hope.

 

Yes, he confirmed.

 

“Are you trying to lead me there?” she asked, jumping to her feet.

 

Yes, he mouthed and jumped in triumph. 

 

He dashed down the canal and Katara ran after him.

 

They passed Sokka on the street. “Where are you running, Katara?” he asked.

 

“Bring help. I know where the children are,” she yelled. 

 

“Whaaat? Where? How?” Sokka asked, but Katara didn’t stop.

 

She had to keep up with Zuko, who being all ghostly, glided easily over the rubble. Katara had to use her bending to propel herself forward. Zuko came to halt on top of an ice-mound close to the water and pointed to his feet. 

 

“Here? You are in here?” she asked again.

 

He nodded. 

 

Katara started to tear the mound apart with large bending movements. Zuko crossed his hands in front of his throat with a scared expression. Then he formed waves with his hand. 

 

“It could slide into the water,” Katara read his motions. Now that they were on the same page, it seemed so much easier to understand his signing. “Got it. I’ll be careful,” Katara said. 

 

She tore apart the ice carefully, little chunks at a time and she gasped when blue shadows appeared under the last translucent layer. Sokka arrived back with Tarkik and Panuk, two of Pakku’s apprentices. 

 

“You found them?” Sokka asked incredulously. 

 

“I think so,” Katara nodded. It was unbelievable.

 

She cracked the last layer, peeling it off carefully. There they were, the little boy and girl in blue parkas curled up against Zuko, who was still clad in the same white anorak he fought Katara in. His arms were wrapped around the children like he was trying to shield them from the ice and cold with his body. All three of them laid motionless. Icy dread clawed at Katara’s inside. What if she was too late? What if they were already dead?

 

She leaned down holding her fingers against their necks. All three had faint pulses. “They are alive. Help me.” 

 

She peeled back Zuko’s arms and gasped when she saw his fist curled around a familiar blue strap. He was holding Katara’s pendant. Katara lifted the little girl first and handed her over to Sokka who took off his parka and wrapped the girl inside it tightly. “Take her to the hut.”

 

Sokka dashed off with the girl. 

 

Katara lifted the boy next and handed him to Panuk with the same instruction.

 

Zuko was too heavy for her to move. She looked back at Tarkik. “Help me.”

 

Tarkik spat with contempt. “Just leave the ashmaker here. Why bother? We’ll kill him anyway.”

 

“How can you say that? He just saved those kids. We can’t leave him here,” Katara argued. 

 

“Or he was trying to kidnap them and got caught,” the bender replied. “You are naive Katara. Just go, I’ll take care of him.” He stepped closer, taking a bending stance. Katara realized that he was about to sink the entire platform into the water, with Zuko on it. 

 

“Don’t even think about it,” Katara knocked back Tarkik with a powerful wave. He attacked back with ice-spikes.

 

“This is why girls are unfit to be fighters. All your skill matters nothing when you don’t have the guts to do what’s needed,” Tarkik snarled at her. 

 

Katara screamed in rage. She had had enough of Pakku’s boys and their constant stabs at her. She was better than all of them put together. She summoned a huge wave to wash the stupid grin off of Tarkik’s stupid face. He lifted his arm with a derisive grin. The ice cracked behind Katara’s back, the platform tilted and Zuko started to slide towards the water. 

 

“What did you do?” She screamed, pinning Tarkik down with a huge icewall. With her other hand she tried to pull the platform back into level, but trying to bend in two directions was tricky.

 

“What’s going on?” Pakku’s strict voice interrupted them. 

 

“She’s gone mad, trying to defend an ashmaker,” Tarkik groaned from under the icewall.

 

“He saved Nella’s kids,” Katara explained defensively, expecting an argument from Pakku.

 

Pakku took a glance at the unconscious prince. Something that looked like relief washed over the old master’s face. _That was strange_. “Let’s at least hear out his side of the story,” he said calmly. 

 

Bending in sync with Katara, they lifted Zuko out of the rubble easily.

 

 **3 days later.**  

 

Katara stared at Zuko’s pale form, as he lay under thick fur blankets in the healing hut. 

 

His scarred face used to be the face of the enemy in her mind. The feared and hated Fire Nation. But now when she looked at him, she just saw a boy. A boy who had good in him. She couldn’t hate him anymore. Not after what Uki and Killik told them about how he dived under the ice to pull them out of the water when they slid in after the Ocean Spirit destroyed the bridge they were standing on. The children’s voice was full of excitement as they recounted how he kept them warm with funny fiery breaths, little flames tickling their skin, how he melted the ice to make sure they could drink, how he told them amusing stories about faraway lands and strange, mysterious spirits so they wouldn’t get scared and wouldn’t fall asleep, risking hypothermia. 

 

It made no sense that someone evil would do something like that for two children he knew nothing about, yet here they were. But if he wasn’t evil, why did he try so badly capture Aang? It made no sense. 

 

Katara pulled back the covers, admiring for a moment his - _objectively speaking_ well-formed - bare chest. She laid her hands coated in the healing water on him. 

 

After three days of lingering between life and death, his heartbeat was becoming steadier. His chi still felt very weak, like he had burnt all his fire protecting the kids. Katara let her own chi connect with his, engulfing the thin golden thread in protective water, helping it recover. He moaned softly. 

 

His eyelids fluttered and the gold of his irises slowly focused on Katara’s face. Katara smiled at him encouragingly. “Welcome back.”

 

He let out a weak sigh as he took in his surroundings. Katara lifted his head, to help him drink. After the first sip he scrunched his nose in disgust. 

 

“It’s good for you,” Katara said.

 

He obediently gulped down the rest of the sea-prune soup and collapsed back into the bedroll from the effort. Noticing his naked body, he looked at her in alarm. 

 

“You have been in the healing hut for days now.” Katara explained. “Do you remember what happened?”

 

He closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

 

“Can you speak?”

 

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, wheezing. Finally his voice came out in a weak rasp. “My uncle?”

 

“Pakku said that you’d ask about him. He told me to tell you that your uncle is alive and Pakku will explain later. I don’t know anything more,” Katara relayed the cryptic message entrusted to her by the old master.

 

Zuko nodded with relief in his eyes. “The kids?” he croaked.

 

“They are fine. Thanks to you, they made it through the ordeal quite unscathed,” Katara smiled. “It was a brave thing you did,” she added quietly.

 

Zuko shrugged as if to say it was no big deal. His gaze fell onto his left arm, where Katara’s necklace was still wrapped around his wrist. 

 

“I ...I...didn’t... steal it,” he whispered. 

 

Somehow it seemed important to him to clarify that. 

 

“I know. I think it made a connection between us; that’s how I could see you. I left it with you in case you felt like playing charades again instead of, you know... dying,” Katara explained, trying to make light of the sleepless worry of the last three days as she waited half awake for the apparition who never came. 

 

His lips curved into the ghost of a smile. Katara realized she had never seen him smile. It lit up his entire face in a way that made him look younger, softer. Somebody normal and kind. 

 

“You...suck...at...char..ades,” he said weakly, between broken breaths. 

 

“You are one to talk. How was I supposed to make sense of that?” Katara imitated the weird monkey-dance. 

 

He snorted. Katara beamed back at him, happy that she could make him laugh. “We figured it out finally.”

 

Zuko nodded, closing his eyes in exhaustion. He seemed like he was about to slip back into sleep, but he fought his eyelids open again. “Thank... you..., Katara,” he breathed softly. It was strange to hear her name from his lips. New, but not unpleasant. 

 

“Stop speaking now, Zuko, you need to rest,” Katara replied firmly, in her strictest healer voice. She grasped his hand under the pretense of checking his pulse. It felt warm. “Rest now, I’ll be right here,” she whispered.

Even after he dozed off, she stayed there silently holding his hand; her mother’s pendant still tied to his wrist nestled between their palms.

  
  
  



	16. Wooing the Ladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Zutara Week 2019
> 
> Prompt: Mentor

“So that’s the house where we had this dingy little apartment on the second floor. And this landmark here is Pao’s teashop,” Zuko pointed at a small building with green lanterns.

Katara tried to imagine him walking these streets, shaggy hair sticking in every direction, white apron tied to his waist. She wanted to know everything. 

“Can we go inside?” 

Zuko shook his head. “If a nice Upper Ring girl wants to go slumming in the Lower Ring, you might as well do it properly. Shu Long Noodles is the place.”

“Really?” Katara grimaced. A noodle shop did not sound nearly as exciting as Zuko’s old place of employment.

Noting her skepticism, Zuko raised his eyebrow. “Who is the local here, you or me?”

It was funny to think of one of the most powerful people in the world as local to one of the worst slums, but strangely, it was true. Sharing the life of the poor working class was an experience that shaped him into the man he became; someone caring and compassionate. 

Katara followed Zuko through the labyrinth of old, shabby buildings until they came to a storefront that looked like it hadn’t been painted in years. 

“Don’t let appearances deceive you,” Zuko smirked and after some haggling with the owner he secured them a table in the back patio which was surprisingly pleasant, lit with warm lanterns. The menu was short, but the noodles were rather delicious. 

“Not bad,” Katara admitted slurping on the long delicious strings of pasta.

“Uncle swore by this place.” In Zuko’s eyes, Iroh was the unquestionable the culinary expert. “I even took my first date here.” 

Katara couldn’t hold back a surprised squeal. “You? Date?”

“What? Is it that inconceivable that I would have a date?” Zuko pouted playfully, but Katara saw the shadow of real hurt in his eyes as his hand darted to his scar involuntarily. Katara cursed herself..  Of course, that’s not what she meant, but also, inevitably, that’s how he took it. She was on the edge of ruining the exciting undercover expedition she managed to talk Zuko into as a welcome change of pace from the peace conference. 

“Tell me about her,” she tried to redirect his thoughts. 

“She was really cute.” There was a fond smile on his lips. “I was so nervous - umm, trying to remember all of my Uncle’s advice?”

Imagining awkward, grumpy Zuko trying to entertain a date based on instructions made Katara giggle. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah.” Zuko scoffed. “You know how I said Uncle taught me everything? With that I mean _everything_. Even things I’ve never ever wanted to know about,” he added in a low voice to make it very clear what kind of things he meant.

Katara almost choked on her noodles imaging Iroh giving Zuko what Gran-Gran called the bee-talk. “It must have been bad.”

“Mortifying. He insisted on making my hair too. I looked like a monkey. Then told me nice girls wanted to hear fun stories about how great you are. And that winking helps,” he laughed in embarrassment.

So?” Katara nudged him.

“So I told her that I travelled with a circus and juggled,” Zuko grimaced like there was more to the story. 

“How did that work out?” 

“Not well. I broke the soy-sauce jug on my head when she asked me for a demonstration,” Zuko admitted, scrunching his nose.

Katara now was laughing so hard that the entire restaurant was watching them. 

Zuko scowled at her. “You are making a scene.”

“You have to tell me more.” She took a long sip from her cup.

“Well, there is nothing else to tell. She took me to this fountain. The end.” He put down his napkin and asked for the bill. 

“Zuko,” Katara watched him with a calculating smile. 

“Let me guess, now you want to see the fountain,” he sighed. 

Lightheaded from the rice-wine, Katara giggled.  

“Yeah, you promised me _all_ the landmarks. What’s more exciting than first-date fountain?”

They walked through more narrow alleyways with owl-cats prowling, looking for rats and laundry hung across balconies. They stopped at an unremarkable dark square.

“That’s it?” Katara asked trying to mask her disappointment. It didn’t look like anything really. 

“Well, it’s pretty when it’s lit up. Actually, when I came here with Jin, it was like this. And she was so disappointed that I lit it for her,” Zuko explained.

“So you outed yourself as a firebender?” Katara asked incredulously. It was incredibly dangerous and stupid. But also a little bit romantic. Actually more romantic than she ever imagined him to be. 

“I made her close her eyes,” Zuko glared. “Anyways, I felt like an incompetent, babbling idiot the whole night. There was _finally_ something I knew I could do right...”

“I bet she was impressed,” Katara looked at him fondly.

“She tried to kiss me…” he said quietly, kicking a pebble with his foot. 

“And?”

“What do you think? I freaked out and gave her a voucher,” Zuko blurted out.

That sounded pretty terrible even for someone as hopelessly awkward as Zuko. “A voucher?” she giggled.

“For tea,” clarified Zuko needlessly. “Uncle said it was a good back-up plan -  give her a reason to come back. Something about dipping your stick in the river twice?” 

She frowned. “Eww. I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes.”

“Possibly.” Zuko conceded. “He gave me detailed advice about wooing ladies. Like _very_ detailed advice,” he repeated with a pointed look. “I think I started to dig a mental hole and bury myself when he got to…”

Katara’s covered her ears with her hands and squealed. “Stop! I don’t want to hear it.”

As fond as she was of Iroh, she really didn’t want to hear the old man’s advice right now.

“You see? My point. So now you know how I felt,” Zuko laughed nervously. 

Awkward silence descended on them. Katara kept nervously tugging her hair behind her ears. Zuko stood stiff and unsure of what to do. It felt like intruding on a different date at a different time. _Wait? Who said anything about a date?_ They were not on a date, they were just two friends exploring. But Katara also found she felt a bit jealous of this girl who got to see Zuko like that - just a regular, sweet boy, not carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, trying to make his date happy with silly stories and romantic gestures. She desperately wanted to get to know that boy. _Or maybe she already knew him._

“So will you light it for me?” Katara asked a bit breathlessly. 

Zuko looked at her amused, but nodded. “Stand back.”

He took a deep breath and with impossibly fast movements he sent tiny sparks aimed at the lampoons hanging around the stone structure. The flames dancing on the water transformed the place. It was magical. 

“Wow. I didn’t know you could do that,” she noted.

“It’s a specific skill-set that’s pretty much only useful here,” Zuko shrugged. “I think Uncle had me train it for so long, because it was something relatively harmless.”

“It’s pretty,” Katara waved at the fountain. “Like water and fire harmony.” It sounded awfully corny, but then again her date was not the king of smooth. _Not a date. Or maybe it was. Or could be._  

“Zuko,” she said in a husky voice, stepping closer to him. 

“Yeah,” he replied breathlessly, staring at her lips.

“If I kiss you, you won’t freak out and give me a voucher, will you?” Katara murmured, lightly touching her hand to his cheek, her thumb caressing the edge of his scar. She could feel his pulse quicken, mimicking the drumming inside her chest.

“Luckily, for you, I’m fresh out of vouchers…” Zuko rasped. “I might even kiss you back,” he added shyly. 

Watching him, she lifted her face, touching her lips to his lightly. He closed his eyes, his face almost reverent as he drank in her kiss. She pulled back a little. He dived back in, this time really tasting her. Katara lost herself in the sensation of his lips, tongue and hands. 

They jumped apart breathlessly, at the sound of someone clearing their throat reproachfully. 

“The youth these days; they have no sense of propriety,” an old lady grumbled loudly; her remark clearly aimed at Zuko and Katara. 

“But look, my dear, the fountain is lit. Isn’t it a wonderful sight?” he husband hooked his arm in hers and patted her hand, giving them a playful wink. Old school. 

Zuko grabbed Katara’s wrist. “Come, I haven’t showed you my favourite place yet.”

“Where is it?”

Zuko pointed towards the rooftops. “Best view in Lower Ring. And quiet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This doubles for the prompt youth.   
> Fun fact, I wrote the first part of this fic all the way back for Zutara month.


	17. Found

“What do you think you’ll find up there?” Suki asks as Katara heads again to the dusty attic, laced with cobwebs. 

It is a good question. Katara mutters something about pots and pans, ignoring Suki’s amused smile. Of course, the kitchen in the summer house is the best-equipped Katara has ever seen in her life, and yes, she’s been cooking for the team with nothing more than a clay rice-pot for the last couple of months. Also, it’s not her first visit to the attic. Or the second. Or the third.

The royal vacation home is full of trinkets. Some of them really useful, like the colourful paper lanterns that now adorn the patio or the parasols that come handy on the beach.  

But it’s the other things that draw Katara back; objects that tell a story about Zuko. And now that they’ve become friends, Katara is eager to learn more.  

-0-

The cedarwood-chest is full of Zuko-memorabilia, no doubt carefully collected by his mother. There are strands of silky hair tied together with ribbons, baby-teeth sewn into an ornate pocket, tiny handprints in clay.

Katara opens something that looks like a school-report:

_Could do better in his lessons if he were less prone to daydreaming._

_Shows great talent in all fields of athletics._

_Great aptitude for music. Can read notes proficiently and sing clearly. His interest should be nurtured further…_

Katara smiles as she imagines him as a schoolboy, young with dreamy eyes. 

A handful of tiny red papers, rolled into cylinder shapes grab her attention. She unrolls one randomly. It’s a prayer, written in the clumsy scribbles of a child. 

_Agni, please give me bigger sparks. I think Father might like me more if you did._

Katara feels like she’s intruding on something entirely too private, so she rolls back up the tiny scroll and puts it back in the box. 

Maybe she could just ask Zuko, but he rarely volunteers any private information. He trains Aang, does his share of the chores, hangs out with the group mostly quietly, sometimes making an effort to butcher one of his uncle’s jokes. Katara wonders if it’s painful for him to be back in this place, conspiring to bring his own father down. For the first time she admits to herself that he’s not in an enviable position.

 

-0-

 

The objects serve as conversation-starters. The first thing she brings to him is the drawing of a dragon; made in red and gold ink with bold strokes. The proportions are all wrong, but the eyes of the dragon are strangely expressive. Pain and compassion.

“Did you draw this?” she asks curiously.

A small, wistful smile forms on Zuko’s lips as he turns the paper around. “Yeah. I was trying to explain to Azula what the dragons in my dream looked like.”

“You are quite talented.”

He playfully puts his fingers on his lips. “Don’t tell Sokka, he’ll challenge me to a painting _kai_.”

Katara promises to keep it as their secret. It feels nice to have a secret to share.

 

-0-

 

“Did you make these?” She scatters colourful paper-animals on the steps during the training break. He picks up a badger-frog and makes it skip. 

“Some of it. Mum taught Azula and me. You see? Those perfect ones are hers.” There is barely disguised bitterness in his voice. His sister’s perfection seems to be a permanent shadow he still struggles against. “I probably made all the crooked ones.”

Katara picks up a fire-hawk from the crooked pile. “Can you teach me this one?”

“Sure, it’s not that hard,” he nods. 

He folds the paper in deep concentration, his tongue sticking out from the effort. It makes him look like a kid. The folds are perfectly aligned. Katara copies his movements carefully. 

The others all gravitate towards them, first watching, then joining in. Even Toph insists on having a go, letting Zuko guide her hands through the motions to make a lotus. 

Sokka -  _who else_ \- suggests a frog-jumping competition, adding extra folds to upgrade his design. Instead of jumping, his frog spins around madly, which inspires new and even more extravagant designs. Soon, the steps of the patio are covered with mythical creatures, monsters and strange animal hybrids. Most of them crooked. Nobody really cares. Laughter echoes among the old pillars; Zuko’s chuckles melding into the group’s merriment.

-0-

“I really like this one.” She picks up one of the kites. It’s blue like the sea, decorated with a sea-lion. 

His eyes turn sad. “It was Lu Ten’s.”

Katara has no idea who he’s talking about, but the heaviness of his voice implies a tragic story. She waits patiently. Zuko pulls his fingers along the reed crossbars. “My cousin, Uncle’s son. He died in the war.”

“I’m sorry. Were you close?”

“He was older than me and he knew the best games. He taught me to sneak around, to wrestle, to fly kites,” Zuko smiles, lost in good memories. “I wish he was still alive, things would be different…” ha adds quietly. 

Before Katara has a chance to ask what he means, Aang interrupts with an enthusiastic grin. “These are some great kites. I haven’t flown one in a century!” 

Inevitably, Sokka appears to examine them. Ten minutes later, the entire group is down by the beach flying kites. Zuko is running close to Aang to get the airbending boost. He’s holding the string of Lu Ten’s kite, the blue silk is flying impossibly high.

-0-

Katara drags out a heavy box full of instruments. The tsungi horn is on top.

“Can you play this thing?” she asks, thinking of the old school report.

“A little,” Zuko replies shortly, keeping his eye on Aang’s movements as he drills the new set.

Aang perks up immediately and stops the training. “I love music.”

“You have firebending practice to do,” Zuko says strictly. He’s relentless with Aang, never lets up on the training. As if every minute was a question of life or death. Maybe it is.

“Come on, Zuko. Practice, practice, practice. I never get to have any fun anymore,” Aang pouts.

Zuko looks at Katara. _Positive reinforcement,_ her lips form the words silently. It’s an argument they have had quite a few times.

“I’ll tell you what. If you can do this set perfectly by the end of the day, we’ll do music night,” Zuko offers.

Aang restarts his practice more enthusiastically, his concentration and form are perfect. As the sun dips down the horizon, Zuko declares the set mastered. He puts the horn to his lips and starts playing, eyes closed. The courtyard grows quiet. The music sounds both strange and beautiful to Katara’s ears. Clearly, he knows more than a little.

-0-

One early morning she drags a surf-board to the beach, where Zuko sits in quiet meditation waiting for the sunrise. The others are still sleeping in the house. 

“Do you know how to use it?”

“Don’t tell me you want me to teach you,” Zuko looks at her in confusion. 

“Actually, I had something else in mind.” Katara bends her own surfboard and spins around on top of the wave. “Come on, the water is delicious.”

Zuko watches her with a skeptical expression, but he picks up the surfboard and starts to paddle in deeper. Katara gives him a big boost with a wave of her arm. “That’s really neat,” laughs Zuko. 

Balancing himself on the board, he starts moving with the waves. He’s not half-bad for a firebender. Every once in a while, Katara sends him on a spin. On the first two tries, he ends up under the water, but by the third attempt he figures out the rhythm of her bending and moves with it. They chase the waves in the rising sun, their laughter carried by the water. 

Katara collapses in the warm sand, the dancing waves coursing inside her veins, making her feel alive. Zuko soaks in the rays of the sun, covering his feet in sand. 

“This was fun,” Katara giggles. 

“Last time I was out there, Azula set my surfboard on fire because I won some stupid game we were playing,” he notes. He doesn’t make it sound like anything out of the ordinary, but rather a regular occurrence. A normal day in the family. Katara’s stomach squeezes painfully at the thought of growing up like that, constantly watching your back, wondering why your family hates you. 

He shakes his head, as if to get rid of the bad memories and smiles at her. “But surfing with a water-bender is certainly an experience I never knew I needed.” There is no sarcasm in his voice. “It’s great to have you guys here. It makes this place come alive again.”

Katara nods. “We all love it here, you know. Sokka swears it's the best place in the entire world.”

“Maybe, after...after this is all over, we could come here for a real vacation.” His voice is a bit shy and hesitant, as if he feared they would turn him down. As if he still didn’t believe that they are friends now.

Katara for one can’t think of anything better than winning the war and taking a long holiday on Ember Island. “That would be great, Zuko.” 

She puts her hand on top of his. He watches it intently, like a painter trying to commit to memory every detail. After a long beat of silence he pulls away his hand.

“I’d better wake up Aang,” he says and heads back towards the house. 

Katara leans back against the old, battered surf-board, enjoying the last quiet minutes of the morning. 

She thinks that after breakfast, she’ll go back to the attic. These objects are part of the puzzle, through them she’s found the real Zuko. But maybe there are more layers to be found. And maybe, through all this, he’s found something too.

 


	18. Easier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This snippet is set in the same universe as [The Great Eggspedition](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17707841/chapters/41773775) post-series AU, on Sun Warrior Island, days after Druk's birth.

 

Despite the almost full moon, this new bending move proves to be tricky. Katara tries again the complicated, thin spiral, suspending it above the stream. It’s very different from the fighting moves she knows so well. It’s more finicky - all about patience and control. She’s not sure what is its purpose, but Master Pakku insisted it was important to learn these complex shapes to fully understand water.

She’s so lost in her concentration that she jumps and drops the spiral-wave when she hears a loud hiss, followed by a shushing noise from behind her back. It’s Zuko, sitting on the ground cross-legged. He looks like crap. The dark circles under his eyes are visible even in the pale moonlight. 

He suppresses a yawn. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to startle you.”

“What are you doing up so late?” 

It’s a stupid question. He points to the whimpering bundle he’s holding against his chest with a miserable expression. 

“He’s so fussy - just wouldn’t settle.”

“Did you try to feed him?” Katara asks.

“Of course.”

“Maybe he needs to burp?” Katara guesses, not because she knows, but because Zuko looks so lost, so she wants to be helpful. But she’s not exactly an expert on newborns either. Especially those of a different species.

“Tried that. Exactly as you explained…Nothing works. I’m out of ideas,” Zuko grimaces.

Katara rakes her brain for things she’s seen mothers do in her village to calm their infants.

“A lullaby?” she suggests. It can’t hurt.

Even if it doesn’t do anything for fussy dragonlings, Katara would certainly appreciate it. She’s found out it in the last couple of days that he’s really good at singing, with a warm and smoky voice that sounds like a cozy fire in the middle of the winter. She may have developed a thing for it. Zuko starts humming a slow, soulful tune and Katara feels his voice vibrating in her core, warmth spreading slowly to her limbs. The melody wraps them in an intimate, peaceful cocoon, like a soft blanket.

It seems to work. Druk stops his fussing and melts against Zuko’s chest, golden, scaly eyes blinking slowly until his eyelids close completely. 

“I think he’s asleep,” Zuko whispers with relief and caresses the baby-dragon lightly. 

“You are really great at this,” Katara smiles at him encouragingly. 

Despite the early challenges of being a new parent, he’s slipped into his dragon-dad role rather naturally. It’s revealed a soft, paternal side to him that she’s only seen in rare glimpses back before the war ended, on Ember Island. It’s a very different Zuko; one without his usual sharp edges and thick defenses. She can’t stop herself imagining him holding a real baby. Their... _Get a grip, Katara,_ she reminds herself. She’s been over her embarrassing secret crush on Zuko for a while now. It was impractical, complicated. They are friends. Good friends, even best friends, nothing more. 

Still, it warms her heart how his face lights up at the compliment. “Thanks. I try.“ 

They sit quietly for a while, listening to the light snores of Druk. The silence is filled with things unsaid. Katara knows that he worries about becoming like his father. She wishes her reassuring words had the power to chase away those doubts forever.

“You should get some sleep too. You look tired,” Katara suggests as Zuko’s eyelids start to close as well.

Zuko nods and tries to get up slowly. As soon as he moves, Druk wakes with a loud hiss, and starts his muffled dragon-cries again. Zuko sighs and rubs his back, humming the tune again. 

The song lulls Katara into a dreamworld, where things are less complicated. Her reverie is broken by Zuko’s loud yelp, as he holds up a bleeding finger. 

“Don’t bite, Druk. That’s not nice.”

“Let me see.” Katara leans over the wound. Healing it is quite easy, but the irregular shape of the bitemarks gives her another idea. 

She freezes some water into an icicle and hands it to Zuko. He frowns in confusion.

“What am I supposed to do with this? Stab myself when I can’t take the sleep deprivation anymore?” 

“It’s an ice-lolly. I think he may be teething,” Katara explains. 

With a hopeful look, Zuko coaxes Druk’s mouth open and rubs the ice against the dragon’s gums. Druk clamps his jaws eagerly around the ice and quiets down again.

“I think you were right, Katara.” Zuko looks at her with wonder like she just figured out how to end all sicknesses. “How am I ever going to figure these things out?” _When you are not there_ \- he doesn’t say it, but Katara hears the unsaid question anyway.

“They say it gets easier. Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it,” she instinctively cups his tired face. His skin feels almost feverishly hot. He leans ever so slightly into the touch, eyes closed.

“That’s what they say. Thanks, Katara,” he murmurs sleepily.

“Sleep well. If you need more ice, I’ll be here.” Katara calls after him, before he disappears behind the door. 

She resumes her bending, trying to twist the coil again. _Patience_. It’s complicated, but she will figure it out eventually. She always does. With practice, it gets easier.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Also on Tumblr [@royaltealovingkookiness](https://royaltealovingkookiness.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Zutara Week 2019 starts at Ch 14.


End file.
